Through Tinted Panes
by Sarruso
Summary: AU: On the verge of a breakthrough, Bruce Banner suffers a bizarre mental breakdown. Confined and unstable, not even optimists can find traces of the man they once knew within the beast. But when the world needs him and none can reach him... Time for Plan B.
1. Prologue

**Through Tinted Panes**

**Prologue**

Bruce Banner preferred to work with paper. With all the theoretical, conjectural, and otherwise not-quite-known-for-sure information he and his peers threw around on a regular basis, there was something comforting somehow about the undeniably solid yet delicate pages, the dark and graceful pigment looping across the blankness, and the comforting human sounds of writing utensils scratching along as the machines hummed along in their monotonous way. Or maybe it was just that he liked keeping the computers focused where they needed to be: The work. Or it could also be attested to the occasional blackout from experiments pulling unexpected power whenever auto-save was turned off. Or maybe it was Galaga.

Whether it was due to any of those reasons, another, or some unexplainable personal preference, Bruce found himself scratching away with a dulled down pencil with a quickly growing hand cramp. He flexed his hand tenderly and blinked his eyes owlishly at the freshly written, blurry letters. _Ugh, exhausting_. He'd been neglecting his health again, he noticed as he stretched and popped his back in a sickening manner and took a good minute or so to focus his eyes on the clock. Time, it seemed, had escaped again.

Work distracted him from many important things, mostly his health, but in this case Bruce considered his misstep to be justifiable. He and his team of scientists had been following a promising lead for a few weeks now. Bruce Banner considered accusations of self-neglect to be negligible in the face of a discovery that possessed the potential to justify his entire career.

Every person on the project was willing to sacrifice health and home for answers. At four at night- the morning, actually- Banner displayed just a tad bit more dedication than the rest of the driven pack.

But Bruce felt his age, though not great, as well as his mortality and recognized that he did not have the luxury of being a machine or a god; though he could refuel like one, and a powerful cup of tea was his secret to marathon research sessions. He placed the pen idly on the desk and stood up in a single motion.

He stifled a yawn and shuffled away from his work, looking vaguely like a panda bear due to his sleep-hindered, lumbering step. Prickles of sensation rose upon the back of his neck and arms that he attributed solely to over thinking for the past many hours. The room was entirely silent save the rustling of his clothes and soft squishing of his soles.

"Dr. Banner. Are you going to continue ignoring me?"

Starting with pure distress, Banner stumbled back from the newly perceived threat and nearly cried out as all the dominoes on his desk began to topple – figuratively, of course, it was actually just a bunch of very important papers: Even worse.

"General Ross!" His mysterious assailant was the person deemed most likely to cause him an 'accident'. "I- Ah- Uh, one moment, please, sorry," Bruce managed to spit out before whipping back around to tend to his precious research. His hands shook too much and his heart beat too fast for any of his motions to be graceful, and he loathed seeing that the papers were beginning to crumple in his grasp. Had Ross not been glaring over his shoulder, he would have taken the time to straighten them or recopy them, if necessary. Instead he slowly turned around, futilely smoothing his curly hair and rumpled lab coat.

"To what do I owe the pleasure at this, uh, hour?" _Be calm_, the scientist reminded himself as he clasped his hands tightly to prevent wringing or fiddling with glasses. He could still hear his deafening heartbeat echoing in his ears. It had been so quiet before, so silent that Banner could not fathom how his superior managed to sneak up without notice. He had to fill the silence because the man always expected something from him, good or bad. All he had to do was not mention Betty. "I, ah, I was just writing and waiting for-"

"At ease, Dr. Banner," Ross cut him off gently in a manner that succeeded in stunning the younger man into silence with a half-formed syllable on his tongue, "Really, Banner, don't be defensive. I was just checking on our project and top scientist. Continue your work unless this… hour makes your work unsafe." In a way that made it clear that the motion was clearly for show, Ross paced once in a circle to appraise the room, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms at Bruce once finished. Bruce could do nothing but meekly nod and stare back, but, surprisingly, Ross had mercy and explained. "The Anechoic Incident spurred some more regulations for the safety of our researchers. You should probably get used to these visits."

Bruce nodded solemnly. Siemens had been a friend, and the aforementioned incident had not been a pleasant one. "I understand. I suppose I'll just…" The scientist gestured vaguely, unwilling to translate what he was going to do into military terms but thankfully Ross didn't seem too interested if nothing was going to blow up.

Another light flipped on as Bruce padded past, swatted his hand at it and went across the room for some other reference papers. He checked the progress on the computer. Scribbled some more then checked for accuracy. Breaths came in even, unheard patterns. Bruce resisted the urge to turn around and check the officer's movements every few minutes because what could this sudden showing of cordiality be but a truce? Unless it was a case of psychological warfare, in which case the General was surely having success. The man hated him, and admittedly the feeling was mutual, though tempered by respect and desire for conciliation on the other end. Banner shook his head quietly and pretended to scratch something out to pass the motion off as something else. Really, it was bad for his health to be so suspicious all the time and-

"Banner-" Bruce looked up quickly from his work at the clearly displeased tone, "-I see that you keep your… Loved ones close at hand, don't you?"

A few feet away, Thaddeus Ross was holding a small slip of paper in his hands. The topside looked glossy, but the glare from the light was just so as to obscure whatever image the photograph might hold. But Bruce had a lot of photographs stashed away; he liked having the hard copies. _Please let it be graduation. High school graduation and not_- The man tilted the picture toward its owner. Yes, it was Betty.

The image showed a beautiful, brilliant, and altogether too kind, brunette woman with a broad smile on her face, wind in the hair, cheeks flushed with laughter with her arm in the crook of another's. The other person in the frame was just a plain, unassuming, and nerdy man with a more subdued expression, though the joy it expressed was just the same.

Even days later, Bruce couldn't help but find his mood lifted as he gazed at the proof of just how happy they both were. It was just the two of them, just Bruce Banner and Betty Ross. But, now it was just Bruce Banner and Thaddeus Ross, and despite the motivation the memory provided during long nights, it didn't seem like a good thing to have it around anymore. Bruce hurried to explain before conclusions were leapt to.

"Sir, uh, that was from the recent exposition in the next city. Science and technology exhibition, not- Well, we were just-"

"I am aware of the circumstances, Dr. Banner." The General's clipped tone brought about a tense silence in the room, broken only by his deep breathing, marked by Banner's fear to breathe. Breath hissed in through Ross's nose as he began, "Were you aware, Dr. Banner, that my daughter had previous arrangements during this time period?"

"Was I-? No, Bett- Elizabeth invited me. She told me she had nothing to do that weekend because of the holiday."

Ross shook his head in either seeming understanding or disappointment. "I see. What about February 15th and May 30th?" That was post-valentine's day at the museum and their first trip to a carnival that summer. Had Banner not been so anxious to pass the test and gain approval, he might have wondered where Ross got his very specific information. Betty hadn't told anyone, and neither had he.

Bruce shook his head and shuffled his feet, unable to meet his boss's stern gaze for more than a minute at a time. "I, ah, well," he paused and took the time to organize her thoughts, "She seemed distracted on both occasions, but she didn't tell me what was wro- going on until afterward."

Again, there was the ambiguous shaking of the head. Banner gazed at the unusually subtle motion until Thaddeus caught and held his gaze like a proton would an electron. Clear blue eyes were dark in the light and a heavy cloud of thought; Banner thought for sure they were x-raying his soul, if he even believed in such a thing.

Patiently, restlessly, compliantly, Bruce waited for the father of his girlfriend to finish his appraisal. Somehow he got the feeling that this was more than a routine check, which would have been over without incident if he had come across any other person. But because this was his potential father-in-law as well as his superior, there was nothing he could do to ease the tension or voice suspicions. In all honesty, this man could cause him to lose his entire life: research and Betty. All that really mattered to him. To save his life, he'd put up with the blatant examination and mistrust.

After what seemed like an eternity of a staring contest that had Banner's strained eyes begging for moisture, Ross's posture relaxed for the first time in Bruce's presence; _ever_. The bright man's mind was on the verge of shorting out due to this fact alone, but began to question its sanity when that same general took off his hat and ran his hand though his thinning hair. General Ross was never at ease, not around him.

Apparently, unsettlement radiated off of him in waves because even stern General Ross took notice and pity. Unless it wasn't General Ross, and somebody had finally succeeded in creating a clone with memories – in which case Bruce really needed to know for his own peace of mind.

"Dr. Banner, I have the right to speak freely. I trust this will be off-record?" Ross clasped his hat in front of him in a placating manner and continued at Banner's 'dumb' nod. "Betty has been distant lately and I believe that you are the source of this problem as much as I am." Fear flooded through Banner's veins, but he stilled his rapidly paling face into mild curiosity. Ross's tone became quiet, almost regretful. "But only because you make her happy."

Banner's heart stopped for a moment, because he must be dead or dreaming for the current situation to happen. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ross waved him off. "You know I'm a very stubborn man, I understand that as well. The other day I had a conversation with Betty and it dawned upon me that I hadn't been very fair to either of you." The general looked away and pinched the bridge of his nose. As he turned his head back, Bruce couldn't be certain, but thought that he saw a hint of something harsh in his superior's eyes. "I admit that I loathe asking you this, but would you like to come to dinner with myself and Betty in a week? It's time to loosen the leash on her. She is… her own woman and I don't want to lose her."

Finally and inexplicably, Bruce relaxed. He let out a deep breath with a whoosh and stopped kneading his fingers together neurotically. Wanting to make Betty happy was one thing that he would never begrudge anyone. "I understand, General Ross. I'd be honored to join you," Bruce softly replied with an audible smile.

Ross stepped back, nodding and coughing gruffly. Little eye contact was sustained past that point. The moment was over.

"Yes, then everything checks out here. I will see you in the daylight hours. Evening." A hand was held out to shake, and Banner took it gingerly. Up and down, two pumps were made, and then Ross patted Bruce's shoulder before turning on his heel and clacking loudly toward the door.

He paused. "Dr. Banner?"

"Yes?"

"Congratulations. And good work." He continued on out, glancing only at a small, glowing, very vital screen. "This meter is at 90%."

"Thank you, General Ross. Good…" Bruce hesitated momentarily as he tried to decide whether it was night or morning if he hadn't gotten any sleep, but it was too late and Ross was gone. "…Bye."

Bruce remained in the same position for a few minutes before heaving a huge sigh comprised purely of air and relief. He melted into his seat, posture absolutely horrendous as his adrenaline faded and his brain kicked into motion. As the little synapses did their best work to fathom an unfathomable event, all of Banner's dread drained into hope and excitement. Picking his pen up with much ardour, he set back about to work. No longer was his relationship with Betty barred by preconceptions. He'd still have to prove himself to General Ross as a man worthy of the privilege of being in Betty's presence, but a chance was all he needed. He would take it, and not fail. Anything else would be unworthy of Betty's affection, anyway.

Now about those measurements…

* * *

Something ugly forced its way past Ross's calm demeanour once he finally exited the building. Lines sketched themselves out on the already slightly worn face, lips pulled back bestially to expose bared, yellowing teeth, the furrowing of eyebrows in pure disgust cast shadows on the eyes already dark from fury. How he hated playing nice. How he hated acting pleasant. How he hated the false camaraderie. How he hated the Trojan Horse-Olive Branch strategy. How he detested Bruce Banner.

"Dr. Johnson, are you out here?" He snarled in a vicious way, but made certain to keep his voice down.

A small padding noise sounded from a bit to his left, so Ross glared narrowly out of his peripheral vision at a member of Banner's team that was rat-like in both demeanour and appearance. His shoes were removed, leaving only dull yellow socks in contact with the floor, but otherwise he dressed to impress people who would never give him the time of day. Ross found him to be a snivelling wretch, himself, but at least he had the backbone to follow orders and get the job done. If personal gain was involved, Johnson would not be inhibited by petty morality and the imaginary rivalry between himself and Banner evolved into war mere days after their first meeting. Ross knew from experience, there was no mercy or morality in war. Just how he liked it.

"Yes General Ross, I'm here. It is done," Johnson murmured, though it sounded more like a hiss to a normal ear. After a quick and quiet cough, his voice came out more normally, though no more appealingly, "The sensors shouldn't go off until the leak reaches the outermost labs. By that time it will be too late for Doctor Banner to recalculate anything."

"And the cameras?"

"Fixed, Sir. Nobody will ever know that either of us were here."

For the first time that night, Ross gave a genuine expression of pleasure: a nod and smirk of satisfaction, eyes crinkled in a dark and sick amusement at another man's destruction. "Good. And Banner remains oblivious," A dark look crossed Ross's visage as he muttered solely to himself, "I will not allow that pathetic worm, that excuse for a man, ruin us." He couldn't ruin the future he had so lovingly crafted for himself and Betty. The one built for maximum attainment of all his ambitions.

"You will get your promotion, Johnson, but before you go…" Ross focused his steady glare on the backstabber's own fearful gaze, "I want to make sure. The amount of radiation leaking into that room right now is enough to kill an army, correct?"

"Yes Sir."

"So Bruce Banner is among the walking dead?"

"Yes Sir. If it's not instant, it will be acute cancer. Fatal within days – hours, even."

"And nobody knows gamma radiation like you do."

"No Sir, nobody but Banner. If he survived," Johnson scoffed, "it would turn all known laws of radiation on their heads."

Finally, Ross relented, nodding his head once in dismissal while strategizing every possible way to make sure that the cover-up executed correctly and the sniveling coward left in the dark would not crack under the pressure of the inevitable investigation. Intellectual types were just too weak. Too conniving, too careful, too creative, too conscientious.

War was where Ross belonged, right at the top of the army and in the thick of it, cutting all sentimental scientists down in his path to conquest. If he couldn't have a real war then this was the next best thing.

* * *

Banner bustled about in his considerable workspace, perfectly at peace with the world thanks to good results and a riverful of denial. As much as he would like to trust people, it had been beaten into his head long ago that deception was often just as convincing as the truth and sometimes more comfortable. But for the sake of his emotional stability and by extension the wellbeing of the project and any workers in the near vicinity, he needed to swallow a heavy pill of self-suppression. It went down just fine, and Banner's mood rose significantly.

The meter only had two percent remaining until completion, yet Bruce found himself with nothing left to do. All was filled out and accounted for, save the dependents on the final test. If his calculations were correct, harnessing gamma radiation as an energy source would be on track to occur within the next three years… And the safe application thereof would come within ten. Bruce knew that he wasn't the only person looking into this, and he also knew that the military would use it for extremely selfish gain. But he couldn't help but hope that as scientists turned something harmful into something useful, the world would learn from their experience.

A beeping broke his reverie. Bruce allowed a satisfied sigh to pass his lips. It was done, complete, concluded. Everything they had worked for; over. He couldn't even remember the exact time period, but the effort was immense and inspiring. In fact, the others deserved to be there just as much as he did, but Bruce was the one there and he owed it to them to let go of all sentiment. Waiting to access the results could alter the conclusion if he didn't manually check each and every one of them.

Giddy, yet not, Bruce clicked through the system's default settings to get to the meat of what he needed. Start and—Print. There. Any of the others might have been impatient and antsy to see the words flitting across the computer screen before filling the multitude of blank pages with perfect numbers but Bruce was Bruce. As such, he was able to restrain himself because, really, this might not even be the lead they were looking for. Better not get too excited.

Despite his mind's protests against raising his hopes, he was unable to prevent himself from reading along as paper fell off of the printer.

"Thirty-percent… Factor fifty-five… Ah, good thing we added the extra layer of insulation… Thirty-percent…" Bruce absently muttered at the more interesting points in the statistics, not that anyone else would understand his ramblings unless explained in, well, English. As time went on, his eyelids began to droop. How long had he been up, again? Yes, too long, that sounded about right… Banner groaned and threw a hand over his eyes, knocking his glasses out of the way to rub the sleep away.

_I need to stay awake in case something goes wrong_; Bruce sternly reminded his protesting body that was swiftly becoming bolder in its rebellions. No longer could he feel anything save pins and needles in his left foot. A point to the left of the temple acted akin to a jackhammer toward his brain. When he put his glasses back on, his vision swam disconcertingly. He muttered something about getting tea when all this was over and placed a steady hand on the computer screen. If anything could focus him, it was the overwhelmingly positive results.

"Three o'clock: Gamma powered generator at Thirty-Five percent. Three-Ten: Gamma powered generator at Forty percent. Three-twenty: Forty-Five percent. Three thirty: Fifty. Three forty: Fifty-Five. Three fifty: Sixty-Five. Four o'clock: Ninety. Four ten: Eighty-Five." Banner's mind was jolted out of numbers and statistics and power levels, and back into the real world. These numbers were not supposed to drop. They were designed against it. In the case of a malfunction the numbers were supposed to hold steady. Hurriedly, Bruce grabbed the computer controls and navigated to the line graph view to see a classic drop off that gradually became more severe. "Four-forty: Zero." They had a radiation leak.

Banner fell back from the data, staggering in horror at the information he had just absorbed, at the amounts of gamma his body had probably been absorbing. Suddenly the sweat pooling on his temple and upper lip could be attributed to either bodily distress or fear. But he had to calm himself; he needed to. His mind was his greatest asset, and all was lost if he abandoned it in times of crisis.

Bruce set his jaw and squared his shoulders at the invisible enemy confronting him. It was all he could do to ignore the numbness in his leg, but what time was it? He glanced up at the clock; 5:10. The digital clock told him the same thing. For thirty minutes there had been an unhindered leak of Gamma rays through the machine into the facility, and that was half an hour too long. Nobody lived close enough to get there in time if he called, and his body was already beginning to fail. He couldn't get away and nobody could come to his aid.

Wincing at the bleak situation, he carefully pulled his phone out of his back pocket and set it to record before replacing it. Somebody would need to know what happened here and recognized with the clinical detachment of someone watching a dream that he would not live long enough for it to be him. His death should have come many moments ago, so he grit his teeth and got down to work. Preventing any more exposure was the least he could do. He took a deep breath and found a place of calm within in spinning mind.

"This is Bruce Banner, access code 78542499… Gamma. There's been a leak in the main experimental power generator… Occurred presumably sometime around 4:10 am. Momentarily I will attempt to halt the flow, but in the case that I fail, anyone who reads this should…"

* * *

Alexander Johnson (who was seriously considering changing his last name to something along the lines of Caesar or Julius) glanced at his watch in the moonlight, relaxing in his comfortable desk. It was past the record gamma survival time. By his calculations, which were just as good as Banner's own, it was about this time that Banner's heart should be a pile of mush, having shut down a good quarter-hour ago. His eyes should be melting out of their sockets and any traces of neurons in that 'brilliant' brain of his would be no more use to the world.

If Dr. Johnson had been a better person, he may have mourned the loss of a worthy mind, man, or rival – but he was not. If anything, he would have mourned the loss of the current phase of research. But he didn't. He was perfectly capable of recreating that data on his own because it was his idea, after all; it was only a stroke of luck that Banner had come up with it first.

Satisfied with a good night's work, the scientist padded over to bed and drifted off to dreams of further ambition.

* * *

"… I predict that I have very limited time left. The computer has proven unable to stem the leak and I have come to the conclusion that direct intervention is the only way to prevent an uncontrolled expansion of this issue."

Bruce gave a chilling, bone jarring cough as he tapped in the necessary characters to save the results and override the safety measures. He screwed his eyes shut as another fit overtook him; they obviously weren't doing their job, anyway.

A door hissed open, moving a good few inches of protective material out of the way to grant him access to the machine. Bruce shakily grasped along the wall for support, shuffling his unreliable feet as far forward as he dared as quickly as he could. The machine – the miracle generator – was a stunningly complex creature and the lone scientist suddenly found himself relieved that he had been the one to find it in this state. Nobody knew Gamma Radiation like he did, and nobody could stop the leak in time if he couldn't.

"The machine looks to be intact. I will check the valve, the pressure levels, and finally the critical radiation containments for any problems. I suspect-" (he hoped) "That I will be able to find and stop the malfunction in one of these places."

Bruce pushed his glasses unsteadily to rest on the top of his head. At this point they were doing more harm than good. The prescription was all wrong with the mutations occurring rapidly within his nervous system (something he really did not want to think about) and he didn't want them to break if he fell – for sentimental reasons. But maybe he did need the glasses – the thought dawned on him scarily – as everything looked pristine around the valves and pressure levels. The malfunction seemed inexplicable.

"T-There is nothing wrong with the valve or pressure. Please skip these steps and look elsewhere for problems."

Bruce's hands shook from more than the radiation; from desperation and perplexity than ever before. He tested it, he should know. The areas he just checked were the most likely to blow from stress but… A cold hand clinched his heart. The critical areas he referred to were the most attractive for sabotage. His mind showed him images of earlier this morning, earlier in his life, any time someone could have gotten in. Banner sighed, all scenarios having him as the main culprit, guilty of negligence. They had taught him not to trust, to not be naïve, and look what happened when he disobeyed. Oh well. He'd fix this and never have to make that mistake again.

"Ah, here it is. There is no need to worry," Bruce was deceptively calm toward the cell phone recording, "There is a large abrasion on a pipe that can be seen from the lower left if you come in from the east side. I will attempt to close it now."

The irradiated researcher grasped at a set of emergency tools, and then he groaned in pain as the heavy box stressed his traumatized limbs. Somehow, Banner managed to remain steady just long enough to pull the kit into his arms. He noticed that his hands at least were having some sort of reaction to the radiation as well, swollen and discoloured, as they seemed from his unreliable viewpoint; his legs, no longer numb, didn't feel quite right either. Banner chuckled dryly at his situation, feeling more like a baby learning to walk than a walking dead man as he stumbled along, held aloft only thanks to the support of the wall and later the machine by his side.

"I—will– use the tools to fix this as best I can." Bruce cleared his throat and head of obstructions. "First I need to cover…" He trailed off into indecipherable mutterings without realizing as his brain lost the ability to multitask, all energy focused toward the task at hand.

_There, that's it_; Banner thought as he allowed his weary body to relax only to complain at his sudden jerk as he realized that it wasn't stopping. His hand operated independently from his mind, slamming down on the offensive pipe in a quick flash of anger and making the situation that much worse. Metal splintered and crumpled under the weight of his fist, damaging the machine into a state of irreparability. Shocked at his own action, unexpected strength and the newest development in the string of proof that the world despised him, Bruce did the first thing that came to mind. With sickly looking, swollen hands he grasped the tube in two places and twisted, listening to the tough material bend like aluminium foil in his grasp. A pleasant jingle from the computer informed him that the leak had been plugged, but he couldn't quite focus on it.

The immediate crisis was averted, but Bruce was panicking, more than he had done even before. He couldn't stop looking at his hands. They had been discoloured before, but now were an inhuman and glowing green. The swelling that might have been put down to an allergic or violent reaction to the radiation had solidified into tough and massive palms- - his sleeves were beginning to tear at the seams and his head reached much closer to the ceiling. The floor itself seemed to be lurching and moving further away.

Desperate to record the changes he was experiencing, or to just say it out loud, he reached for his phone and subsequently crushed it with newfound strength. _Oh no, someone needs to know about… this_, he realized. Either he would soon be mutated beyond recognition or would explode into some sort of green gamma goo. Bruce whirled around, knocking one of his massive shoulders into the suddenly very small generator. He apologized to every scientist, technician and taxpayer. That had been very complicated and very expensive.

Carefully now, he lumbered back to his desk and fell right through his unstable chair to the floor. He wasn't really concerned about it in the grand scheme of things. More importantly, he concentrated on keeping his writing utensil intact.

"Dear Betty," Bruce began to write with a solemn expression on his twisted face and recounted the events leading up to the disaster, just as he had on the failed phone recoding. He paused; did he really want to write this, now of all times? It'd be like goodbye. Bruce closed his eyes and wrote his conclusion. "I love you, from Bruce."

In all honesty, he probably should not have written that because saying goodbye upset him. He would only hurt Betty with a posthumous declaration of love. He was angry at himself for letting it get this far, he was enraged by his own ineptitude, he hated the world for doing this to him, because Bruce didn't want to hurt anyone and he had already let everyone down.

A massive hand moved up toward the massive green face and smashed the glasses still perched on the nose. Glass went into his eyes, and it hurt, but it was not agonizing. What was happening to him? Why was he suddenly so strong? And why did he feel so angry?

The anger was a haze, Bruce would later remember, it consumed him, twisting into something as ugly as hate. Some bodily fluid remained on Bruce's hand as the cuts healed themselves quickly and efficiently, and stood stark against the rapidly reddening and paling skin. Was the dispersal of gamma returning him to normal? A sharp spike of pain accompanied by pure rage dispelled those hopeful thoughts, but the last thing that Bruce Banner thought before he faded into oblivion was; _I guess I'll be missing dinner, then. It would have been nice to make it. Sorry, Betty._

* * *

The station was chaotic. Military men were scrambling for excuses at the same rate reporters were clawing their grubby pens for a story. They held no concern or care for the young lab tech, fresh out of school that had stumbled across the frightening scene.

Anne Beth (yes, with a space in between) habitually arrived at work early thanks to a tad of homesickness, tinged with some workaholism; and as such just happened to be the first one there. The door was locked, nothing unusual there, but even after she unlocked it there was no way to get into the room. She hit her shoulder to the door shouting, "Hello? Dr. Banner?" Everybody knew that he stayed late on most occasions and could often be found sleeping on his desk, sometimes waking up with ink on his face from the haphazard stacks of paper he kept lying around. If there was anyone there or anyone knew what had happened, it would be him. So she hit the door again. "Dr. Banner? If you're in there, please respond."

The cry she received in return filled her with dread. Something was throwing fragile items, sturdy items, miscellaneous items, and the animalistic noises were filled with agony, fear, and no small amount of rage. It probably wasn't the best idea to go in there, but she couldn't just leave anyone there. _Besides_, Anne Beth rationalized to herself; _she couldn't call for help without warning the rescuers what they would be up against_. With that bit of bad logic in mind (because how bad could it really be in there?) she slowly nudged the door open, putting all of her weight behind the effort. Still, she was only able to budge it a sliver.

With an immense and morbid curiosity, the nosy girl placed her left eye to the gap. She stilled, becoming motionless and disbelieving at the sight that met her eyes. Banner was in there, as expected, but acting out as she had never seen before. The place was trashed, and the radiation levels were unusually high – but her boss was fine, save the expression on his face and lack of care in his movements. There might have been some splotchy bruises on his forearms, along with broken glasses, but she attributed that to the fact that he was hitting and throwing and punching everything in sight.

"Holy cow," Anne Beth breathed then regretted as she saw unrecognizing and wild eyes turn to her. Quickly, she slammed the door shut just in time to keep the raging animal away from her and locked the door. The young girl winced at the horrible sounds and violent blows sounding through the thin piece of wood, before sprinting in the direction of help without looking back once.

* * *

Headlines claimed that an experiment gone wrong had driven the bright, brilliant, and helpful scientist off the deep end, but no investigator was able to fathom the truth. Those near him had no better luck. The day he was admitted to a military asylum with padded walls and a straightjacket was like a funeral. Whatever had happened had twisted the mild-mannered man beyond recognition. Even Betty's tears made no progress towards the restoration of his sanity. Co-workers fled the project in droves, fearing the unknown. They didn't know if the high radiation level had caused or been the result of the madness, but they would not stick around to discover the truth.

Even the victim did not know the truth. The only two who did were free from guilt, the past, and most importantly Bruce Banner.

His memory was quickly reduced to cautionary tales and pitying whispers; much like the man himself was reduced to a shell containing only emotion untempered by intellect.

* * *

A/N:

1. I have tons of 'thank you's for loopyloo2610 for beta-ing this and doing an absolutely wonderful job.

2. This story is not a romance and will not have emphasis on romantic relationships, though the cannon ones will probably still be present in the background.

3. This is my first fanfiction and I'm extremely apprehensive in posting this, so any sort of feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	2. Master of Stagecraft

**Through Tinted Panes**

**Chapter 1: Master of Stagecraft**

The streets were absolute mayhem. Aliens swept over and across streets, overwhelming and beating landmarks into submission. The Loki-led Chitauri invasion for planetary domination was underway and Capitan America –Steve Rogers, or just Steve if you asked him – was right in the thick of it. He'd never done this much shouting, even during the war. To the man out of time, the world had only gotten louder and larger, while his vocal chords hadn't been enhanced nearly enough to keep up. Thank the good Lord for mini-radio-things.

Steve finished knocking out a hostile alien with his shield with the practiced nonchalance of a soldier and placed a hand to his ear out of habit. "Hawkeye, what's your status?" He asked into the wireless-radio-communicator.

From the other side Clint Barton, in the process of using his arrows _very_ wisely, replied, "We only have a legion of alien minions coming at us, no big deal there, but Loki was heading straight for Nat last time I saw him. He was very excited when I just about blew his head off. Hang on a sec-" The archer forsook his arrows in favor of a quick bout of hand-to-hand before returning to his conversation. "-He's going for the Tesseract."

"Is Black Widow there?"

"That's a given, Cap."

Steve ran his free hand through his hair, knowing that it would make very little difference in the end. "Alright. I'll get on it hang in there," He said quickly before engaging another group of Chitauri who were going after a group of civilians fleeing falling rubble. First, he cleared the initial threat of alien blasters by whacking them with his shield in their presumed vital areas. Head, neck, and gut. It was surprisingly similar to fighting the goons in Hydra and somehow comfortably familiar. Aliens of all things were familiar in the crazy world. What had this century come to?

He sprinted over to the stragglers, holding his shield umbrella-like over his head to protect the innocents from falling bits of building. "Ma'am, I need you to get to safety. There's a large group of people in the bank to the right, so you should be well-protected," Steve waved off the woman's gratitude, "Just go. Now. Please."

Captain America returned to his responsibilities as part of the Avengers. "Black Widow? Thor? Can you hear me?"

"Verily, Son of Rogers! I can hear you clearly!" Thor boomed as Steve cringed and wished that the world was as quiet as in the past.

"I'm here," The Black Widow said from her side of the connection. There was much interference, but Natasha spoke calmly with only slightly heavy breaths. "Selvig is free and we're going to close the portal." She seemed to pause and listen for a moment. "Not now, but as soon as I retrieve Loki's spear."

"That might be a problem. Barton says that Loki is coming your way right now. Thor, how quickly can you get over there?"

"For our own fine maiden? I will be the lightning itself so do not worry. I will handle Loki." Wooshing sounds indicated that Thor was making good on his promise.

From his position, Steve heard two twin snorts of derision at Thor's description of Natasha, one of which was the fine maiden herself. The other caused a little more surprise, because Hawkeye was probably the most silent member of the team and had decided to join the party on the ground with Steve. He spared him a glance before replying. "Close the portal as soon as you can get to it. Hawkeye and I will do damage control."

"Ah, that's a bad idea, Cap." Tony's voice sounded into his ear over the communicator seeming tense and strained. "There's a nuke riding into the city on my back-"

"Nuke?" Clint made silent explosion motions with his hands in response to Captain America's question. Steve just raised his eyebrows uncomprehendingly.

"Big bomb, flash bang, ninety-percent certain death… The whole shebang. You know what I mean. I'm pretty sure that I strongly recommend holding off on the closing of portals until I put this big girl up the garbage disposal. Capisce, Capcicle?"

Steve hesitated until he saw Iron Man streaking through the air accompanied by a great white explosive device. Tony redirected it vertically toward the gaping hole into space and Steve couldn't help but wish that he didn't know what kind of move that would be. Calmly and regretfully, he granted his permission. "Ok Stark. Just do what you have to do."

* * *

Thor flew, ironically, like a guided missile on a mission toward the source of the portal, Stark Tower. He would have been lying if he said his soul hadn't been ripped apart by this venture, fighting against a madman who claimed no ties of kinship when his own heart and memories told otherwise. No time was wasted in slowing his descent onto the rooftop; there was no time that could be wasted safely. Already Loki stood across from the Black Widow, voice taunting and eyes grinning at the stoic woman who had eyes only for the staff. It just happened to be right between the two of them.

"Brother Loki," Thor said as he advanced upon the scene, forcing the other Asgardian to divide his attention between the increasing number of 'Avengers' as well as the very important staff. "Fellow Odinson," Thor inwardly winced at the stab of emotional agony that appeared in Loki's eyes at that phrase, "Harass this maiden no further; your quarrel is with me. I warned you that I would defend Midgard. I intend to succeed in keeping my oath as well as bringing you home, brother."

Loki gave a dramatic and irritated sigh, "Oh, Odinson. I thought we'd been over this before. Your goal is flawed as I have no home to return to." He began to work himself into a mad frenzy and held out a hand, calling the staff into it as Thor so often did to Mjolnir. "Asgard? A bunch of bloated liars and sentimental oafs. Jotunheim? A frozen wasteland full of monsters just like me. Fitting, don't you think? But don't you remember? I nearly destroyed the whole thing. It looks like poor pathetic Midgard is the best option, though I suppose I'll have to retrain its more pesky inhabitants." Loki flourished and stabbed the staff at thin air, blasting Thor's previous resting space with blue, alien energy.

Thor dodged the theatrical move and swung his hammer in a graceful arc at the side of Loki's head. It was easily blocked by a smirking God of Mischief who quickly doubled over at Thor's fist burying in his stomach.

"What-" Loki coughed, "What is this? A bit of revenge, hmmm? How _petty_."

He vanished and Thor stilled, waiting and listening cautiously for his reappearance. After a few seconds of silence the telltale sounds of a cape gusting in motion revealed Loki's position as he jumped from behind his opponent. Thor swung. His hammer felt no impact as the doppelganger vanished into nothing. Black boots fell heavily onto the rooftop as Loki planted his feet for a fierce stab at the unguarded God of Thunder. He cackled, "Again? I-"

Once more, Thor cut off Loki's words as he became less patient by the moment. He swung a leg and swept Loki off his feet and grumpily placed his hammer squarely on his chest. "Brother," Thor said as he stood above the trapped body, "To think that you say it is I who will never learn. We will speak at length at a time when this crisis lessens." The victor stared down at the futilely struggling body and pondered how somebody so easily beaten in combat could wreak such havoc. Then, a bright light streaked vertically through the air and a stern voice came over his communicator and Thor was spurred into wrenching the alien staff into his own hands.

The Widow of Black approached him and held out her hand. "Give it to me and-" She pointed straight up, "Throw me. I can close the portal faster than you can."

Thor hummed, nodded his assent, and passed the staff. "Very well, I will remain vigilant here. Bring victory to this battlefield." Black Widow returned the nod curtly and placed both feet in Thor's cupped hands, crouching for balance as he stood and threw her to slightly above the appropriate height.

As Natasha saw the rooftop come into sight and felt herself begin to fall toward it, she tucked herself around the pointy weapon to avoid any unintentional stabbing. Her shoulder hit first, followed by her back and the rest of her body. She ignored the scraping and throbbing that signified future discomfort and hurried over to where the previously mind controlled scientist stood monitoring the portal device. "Are we ready?" She asked with only a hint of breathlessness.

"Yes, the stability will-" Natasha stopped listening to the scientific drivel as soon as she heard the affirmative answer.

"Captain America, we can close the portal whenever we're ready. How is the situation looking?"

From the other end, a surprised sounding super soldier responded after a moment's hesitation. "There's still boocoo's of them coming down, but Tony, uh, I mean Stark went up there with a-" Steve seemed to cover the microphone and ask a question, "-a nuke. Don't close it just yet."

Black Widow followed the order, but kept a close eye on the sky and a firm grasp on the weapon. To say she was displeased with waiting would be an understatement; every one of those monsters coming through the dimensional doorway was a personal failure on the part of herself and SHEILD. Agonizing moments passed until any sort of a sign revealed itself. Chitauri began to drop dead with no apparent cause. A bright light grew from the depths of the darkness and expanded until it even lit up parts of the city. Realization dawned. "Captain! We can't let New York get caught in that blast! We-"

"I know!" Captain America stared into the blinding light and grit his teeth. How he hated losing good men too early. "Just do it."

Black Widow did not need to be ordered twice. She jammed the staff with all of her force into the energy field that gave way with sizzling complaints and opened the way to the Tesseract. As the tip of the spear nudged the cosmic cube out of its precise positioning, the blue light of the heavens halted, followed quickly by the swift closing of the portal. Cloudlike energy obscured their view of the sky at first, but soon the eyes of every Avenger locked onto the body of a teammate thought lost.

"Stark?" Black Widow asked to anyone who was listening in genuine amazement.

"Holy moley! He made it!" Captain America was much more excited than he'd ever admit to being.

"He sure is falling like a block of iron-" Hawkeye commented insightfully

"The Man of Iron told me that his suit is actually an-"

"Thor, Tony's unresponsive. You need to catch him before he falls too far."

Under any other circumstance, the Asgardian would have had his hammer in hand and feet off the ground in a flash, yet in this one instance he faltered. "Captain of America. You see- I- My brother will get away if I leave him here. I do not think-"

"Thor," Steve said very seriously. "I'm not that smart, but I know for a fact that Tony can't survive a thousand foot drop. We all need to live for the next battle."

"I understand." Thor held out his hand for Mjolnir, not even sparing a glance at the cause of all the mischief and took off with all possible speed into the sky. Wind whipped through his hair and cape as he and Iron Man approached each other. When he got close enough, he chose an appropriate angle for minimal damage and caught the heavy suit of armor in one arm; the other was still responsible for holding the magic hammer keeping them both aloft.

The weight of an extra body was inconsequential compared to the strength of a god, but the one-armed hold was certainly uncomfortable for both of them. Swiftly yet carefully, Thor glided down to the ground where he saw Captain America and Hawkeye squinting up at him with an odd mixture of anticipation and concern. As soon as his feet touched the solid asphalt, he lowered the brave warrior onto the ground.

"Iron Man, Stark, Tony," Steve was in full commander mode: voice loud, stern and authoritative. "Can you hear me?" The question was certainly not worth asking. "Thor, get his mask off so we can if he's even breathing." No more than five seconds later, the mask was gone and they could see that no, he was not breathing.

Clint pressed his lips together into a thin, white line. He already looked as if he were cutting all emotional ties and recognizing the death as inevitable in the way his assassin training forced him to. Thor stepped back in disbelief, not accepting that even catching the man could not save him. His head lowered in respect and grief. Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose to remember all of his training. He couldn't lose another… ally to a fall like this.

Suddenly, Steve's eyes opened wide and he turned sharply toward the despondent god. "Zap him. Thor, you need to shock him."

"What the hell are you thinking, Cap? It's not a defibrillator, it's goddamn lightning!"

"I too do not see the wisdom in-"

"No really, I'm being serious here," Steve pleaded earnestly. "It's our only shot. It worked for Frankenstein- and for me, kind of. What will it hurt if it doesn't work?"

"Iron Man will be a toaster for one-"

"Thor?" Steve asked, bypassing any more of Clint's contrary remarks.

The blond, bearded man looked thoughtful. He remembered their encounter from the forest when Iron Man easily took a strike and returned the favor with a force twice as strong, "Power makes the Man of Iron stronger. I will try." Thor swung his hammer slowly- he didn't want to _kill_ the human- and aimed the bolt of lightning for the previously glowing patch on the suit's chest.

It struck, and the reaction was immediate. The blue glow reemerged from the opening, sparks flew from the area nearest to the arc reactor, and Tony gave a sudden and violent jerk. He curled in upon himself, cradling his chest gingerly and wincing greatly. Even so, he quirked an eyebrow at the people waiting to see if they had accidentally fried the great Tony Stark's brain. "So who's Dr. Frankenstein here? I'm alive."

"Ha!" Steve grinned, unable to suppress his giddiness for once, "I made that reference!"

"Huh," Tony almost-pouted, "Shoulda used the one about the light socket."

"I do not understand these Frankensirs or sockets of light, but we must return to the battle at hand. Madame Widow," Once again, Thor boomed his words into thin air as if the radio connection were telepathy instead, "How fares my brother? Does he remain where I left him?"

"My god. Thor? Is that you?" The voice was masculine and worn. Decidedly not the feminine and young assassin they were expecting.

"Sir Selvig! It is good to hear you well, is the Black Widow there?" Thor beamed at the familiar voice even as he fretted over the unusual lack of Natasha. She wouldn't just allow another person to reply for her; it was unheard of!

"She, uh, she's preoccupied with the Tesseract. Loki isn't helping either. And- Oh-" A large crashing and burning sound blasted into the rest of the team's ears. Thor took off immediately while Tony tried and failed to get aloft. His posture made necessary by injury took flying out of the equation. The other two soldiers stayed behind to ensure the safety of their teammate and remain out of the way, not that they could even catch up in time.

Even Thor with all of his lighting-like speed did not arrive soon enough to make a difference. The scene on the rooftop was not a pleasant one. Natasha crouched near the edge of the roof protecting shattered remains of Loki's staff, firmly refusing Selvig's first aid offers as she frowned and watched Thor approach. The portal machine did not look any better; it actually looked much worse. All that remained was a bunch of very rare scrap metal. No Tesseract was to be seen.

"He showed up right after you left. The staff stopped working when the Chitauri collapsed but he was very interested in the Tesseract," Natasha shook her head, bright red curls bobbing gently, "He didn't spend much time fighting me, either, just vanished as soon as he got what he wanted."

"So we must fight another day," Thor rumbled deeply and regretfully, "This battle was won by luck alone, and even now it is no clear victory. Next time we will be prepared, but my brother is clever. He will learn, but I cannot predict what he will do in his madness."

"So we have to wait and see."

"Yes, our guard cannot waver."

* * *

"So what poor sap is going to tell Director Fury that Loki has the Tesseract and we have nada?" Clint leaned casually against a cool metal wall as the rest of the Avengers stood or sat depending on their health in a somewhat roomy medical bay. They had all been ushered in for immediate medical attention but Agent Maria Hill informed them that they were free to come and go as they pleased as long as their noses remained attached to their faces and not in SHIELD business.

"Well," Tony began with a wave of the hand, "We do have Manhattan and not a nuclear wasteland. I think that's a fair trade-off." Everyone looked at the bedridden patient like he had contracted some strange, alien disease. A sour look crossed Tony's face. "Don't tell me that Thor managed to burn off my eyebrows- or my facial hair. You better not have touched my beard."

"No, Man of Iron, your hair is still present, but that does not negate the truth that my brother is not," Thor reminded him solemnly. "I would not blame Fury for anger. We saved Midgard once, but not well enough. With Loki around it will happen again until sense dawns upon him."

"I'll tell him," Steve offered, "but someone needs to brief me on all the details. What exactly is a nuke, nuclear weapon, nuclear wasteland or all that tech stuff? —What all of that means. Yes, Stark. I _know_ it goes 'boom'."

From there, all discussion in the room descended into pure and petty drivel driven mostly by all the males in the room. Only Selvig was unable to get a word in edgewise while Natasha balked inwardly at the pettiness of the whole thing. She wouldn't have taken much convincing to believe that they were all prissy princesses in disguise, especially Stark and Thor. The men continued snapping pointlessly at each other while the only woman grew increasingly exasperated at the show of immaturity.

"Director Fury, Sir." At the sound of Natasha's voice addressing the cause of their discussion caused the voices to taper off into silence. "Manhattan is mostly in-tact. The nuclear weapon was redirected by Iron Man then ended the invasion. Loki escaped with the Tesseract and we have no knowledge of where he is now. Civilian casualties are lower than my estimate and-"

"I understand, Black Widow, but what I don't understand is why the saviors of this planet are sitting here arguing like preschoolers over who's Barbie Doll is prettiest!" Fury looked at each and every one of them with his one eye, sternly, giving a particularly stern look to Stark who made a quip about how his Barbie was upgraded. "Sure, we're not dead. But you see, men, it's not over yet. I suggest you remember that."

Pursed lips and deep frowns marked the dead silence that followed. It was probably Selvig's only chance to speak up. "The Tesseract is the only way for Thor to get back to Asgard. It's probably the same for Loki even if he doesn't want to leave." The rest of the people looked at him with varying degrees of 'well duh, we already knew this' and the scientist hurried to explain. "The point is that Loki has a lot more mobility than we do and the Tesseract needs to be the top priority. With it, Loki has a lot of advantages that we do not want him to have." Thor looked vaguely horrified while the rest looked interested. "Not that I know exactly what they are, but there's no way he can have that much power in his hand and not do something with it."

"His move," Steve said somberly.

Tony looked up in surprise. "What? There's no way to track the damn thing? I know we were on a time schedule last time but out of all the scientists you SHIELD guys have, there's no way to track a little sparkly blue cube?" He was aware that it had been luck and a bit of deductive work that had located Loki last time, but couldn't they find anyone to do the job?

"You know about the gamma signature, Stark," Fury said, "And you know that it's too minute to even think about tracing. Or do you want to take a stab in the dark at it?"

"If you could make weapons with the cube why wouldn't you be able to track it?" Steve was still bitter about the blatantly hydra-like weapons he had found stashed aboard. "What happened to looking before leaping?"

"So what?" Clint asked tersely, eyes narrowed dangerously at nothing, "We just wait around until poof! Loki decides to show up in who-knows-where and we go chasing merrily after him? That's the best plan we've got?"

Thor shook his head negatively, "I'm afraid so, my comrade in arms. Loki holds the high ground; he is very good at remaining unseen."

"It's the only plan we have, Clint. It's better than nothing," Natasha said and Clint listened.

* * *

"What do you mean he almost destroyed the Statue of Liberty? No- No- I know that he likes Shakespeare and symbolism." A babble came from the other end of the telephone line, further irritating Fury as he heard the sounds of destruction that his conversation partner had to shout over. "Just grab him, it can't be that hard when he's all on his own; it's five on one. He made more shadow clones? And now he has a giant wolf." Fury cursed and hung up the phone.

"Agent Hill?"

"Sir."

"Make a record of this. We have to go to New York."

* * *

"Breaking News: The Golden Gate Bridge is experiencing heavy traffic buildup thanks to a flashmob of makeup artists- Wait, I'm getting new information that it is actually an optical illusion. Our source says, 'Go ahead and run over the Shakespearian Goat-Man. He majored in technical theater.'" The news anchor blinked at the note that appeared on her screen and glanced past the teleprompter at her cameraman. He shrugged and raised his hands in innocence. The awkward moment dragged on for too long until he waved at her to say something, anything. "Ah, yes. We are in the process of verifying the source at this very moment. Please be certain to follow the traffic laws and maintain calm. Captain America will apparently be there to direct traffic momentarily." The TV personality maintained her shield of solemnity practiced through the funerals of many a stranger. "This is Kailey Connors. This is ETN: News for you now and forever. Stay tuned for updates."

* * *

The team didn't expect to come to Rio de Janeiro to fight Loki, but when they did, it was with a backdrop of a statue sharing their enemy's smirking face. Its arms were outstretched as if he were the savior of humanity.

"Well doesn't that just piss you off?"

"How are we going to change it back? Is the sculptor still around?"

"Throw money at it; we can make a replica in the lab. No big deal."

"You can do that, Stark?"

"Sure, Spangly. What can't I do?"

Steve's mouth wisely remained shut.

* * *

Rome was probably one of the more miserable trips the team had taken, but not because of the weather or whatnot like had been the case in South America. Rome's misery stemmed from the fact that there were tourists everywhere, they were overseas, and Loki was messing with multiple historical monuments.

"Fellow warriors, would you tell me why these buildings are so, eh, crumbly?"

"They're older than dirt, Thor. Much older than Captain America is," Clint replied bluntly. "Even Stark can't fix them so don't bounce too much lightning off of them. Natasha, there are some monster creatures in the Coliseum. I think Loki got his hands on 'Gladiator', somehow.

Black Widow sighed, "I'll be right over."

* * *

The group of heroes and agents sat around the helicarrier's large table and for once all fidgeting was kept to a minimum. Nick Fury paced in a deceptively calm manner near the head of the table clacking forward for a few moments then turning on his heel and heading straight in the other direction. "Well, men, I think it's just about time for a Plan B or we will resort to… drastic measures." He raised a single eyebrow. "Any suggestions?"

"We could have a plan that's better than 'better than nothing', for one," Clint muttered absently, still bitter about their lack of preparation against the mind-controlling alien god. Everybody heard him, but nobody responded to his vocalization of what they all knew to be the truth. That 'plan' had been terrible.

"My brother," Thor began slowly, choosing his words with great care, "greatly enjoys his games. He toys with us, currently. He wishes to understand our limits."

"And then comes the fun part: mass mayhem, destruction, and the enslavement of mankind. This time he might even know what he's doing," Hawkeye remarked flippantly as he refused to meet anybody's eyes, "He's doing a better job without the massive alien invasion force, must have subscribed to Netflix."

"You are correct. He will not depend on such a large variable this time."

"Is there any discernable pattern to his movements?" Steve cut in, trying to get the conversation back on track, or at least onto a subject matter that he could understand. Technology and emotional gods were among them, but tactics were.

Natasha shook her head. "Nothing other than that they're getting further away. We need to gather more data for that, but we don't have the luxury of time."

"God of mischief, mayhem, chaos… I don't think we'd be predicting him anyway," Clint scoffed as he copied Black Widow's motion. "Sure, last time was personal, but this time the drama queen's got the entire planet as his stage."

A dark look crossed the team's face at the reminder of what they were up against and what they had already lost. They fell into silence once more, but something felt missing. Steve looked up and around at each and every reluctant hero present. All met his gaze but one. "Tony, do you have any input?" Captain America wore a slightly disapproving frown. He would have hoped that Stark would have at least taken something of this magnitude seriously for once, but it was surely possible that he had overestimated the genius-billionaire-philanthropist.

In his typical manner that just screamed 'I'm a million steps ahead of you so I'll explain slowly', Tony Stark looked up calmly from his phone that was probably more high tech than most computers. "Me? I was just looking for information that SHIELD is too obstinate to give me willingly."

Fury almost growled. "I thought I told you to stay out of our system, Stark."

Tony looked almost offended or at the very least slighted as he pouted and turned his phone around for all to see. "I don't need to be in your system for this. Google and my own search engines are more than enough to find a gamma scientist knowledgeable enough to track the cube. Already, let's see, thirty-five matches within my specifications. The number is still climbing here. Put a bunch of brains together and boom! Got a mini-gamma-tracing Avengers unit already to go."

"You're misunderstanding the situation, we can't-"

"Why not?" Tony stopped his so-called superior from speaking any further. "Catching Loki falls light-years higher on my priority list than keeping up with some bureaucratic security protocols. Let's just- I don't know, why don't we just hand Loki a trophy? Let's just not even count to ten and try to find him. What comes next?"

"Stark, I'm not opposed to tracking the Tesseract. If you can find a reasonable scientist or a small group, I'll be just fine with that. But you're misunderstanding what I am saying." Fury walked over to Stark with his hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Let me ask you this: Have you seen or heard of any breakthroughs in the gamma field in the past few years? Have any scientists come to you begging for funding? Did you ever consider making a gamma bomb, all the way back when in the time that Stark Industries was a weapons manufacturer?"

"Huh," Tony stood up in an effort to close the height difference, "I thought that we'd already established that I was not an expert on gamma radiation. So then-"

"Wouldn't you have heard about it? I'll tell you why you haven't. Gamma radiation is dangerous. It's so dangerous that gamma experts are looking for ways to get rid of it, to protect against it, and to reverse its effects. They could care less how to detect it with any amount of precision. As you said, they have higher priorities."

"But why can't they learn?" The two strong personalities turned their attention toward Captain America. "Because of the… During the war, we had to come up with new things all the time to keep alive. Now we have planes and radar and, ah, a lot of other stuff." Steve said all this hesitantly, looking up at the others in the group for confirmation.

"I agree, friends," Thor boomed, looking happier than he had in a while. "We pulled together in a time of crisis. I believe our science friends can do the same."

Clint snorted and said wryly, "I learned how to tie a fish knot in Vietnam. It caught some damn good fish."

About half the room brightened with sheer, baseless optimism while the other remained skeptical. Natasha Romanoff, assassin extraordinaire, remained among the grim. "I once saw a spy blow his cover because he couldn't pick up the local dialect quickly enough. What you're not taking into consideration is the time we have. Loki is increasing his power every moment we spend learning how to track him down."

"We have to try. It's the best-"

"That's what we said last time and-"

"I agree, but-"

"At least we won't be waiting to collect data-"

"Can't we just catch him when we find-"

"Loki doesn't get captured unless he wants to-"

"Sir Selvig knows the Tesseract. Can we not garner his assistance for-"

"Selvig is an astrophysicist and-"

"Who else is going to-"

"Enough!" Nick Fury commanded, voice still not yet at a yell, and the room fell into a restless silence. Every person in the room stood on their feet and most were projecting either defensive or aggressive body language. Stark and Thor, especially did not look happy with the proceedings. "I do not like this any more than you do, Stark, Rogers, Thor, Barton, Romanoff. Cohesion is the key to the success of the Avengers Initiative, so lets compromise like good schoolchildren and get past this. Stark."

"Yes, mother?"

"You can find your Gamma expert, but do it on your own time and money. SHIELD will offer no support unless the candidate offers solid evidence of progress. Am I understood?"

"We're savvy, here, Matey."

A bright smirk graced Tony's face as a scowl and a sigh overcame Fury's. It didn't last long before the typically serious and determined expression returned. "Rogers; you have permission to access the records pertaining to Loki for your information gathering. Agents Romanoff and Barton; pick a few field agents and see if you can bring them up to speed. Teach them to fight magic with fists if you have to. Thor; contact your acquaintances. See if they can open a path to Asgard for some backup." A beat of silence resounded. Nobody complained. "This meeting is adjourned. Be ready for anything, Avengers."

* * *

Stark strolled away from the stuffy supers, agents, and various other SHIELD members feeling almost giddy from getting his way just one more time out of many. Unfortunately, the secret government pencil pushers were beginning to notice and make an active effort to get out of the crazy man's way before he blew the place up. It was doubtless that rumors would return to Fury, but really, what could he do about it? As long as Fury wasn't going to stop him from finding his gamma expert (a futile endeavor at this point in all honesty) then there really wasn't anything that the military or private research sectors could do about his future harassment of their workers. Nobody sued Tony Stark and got away with it- not with a profit at least.

He stepped into a darkened room and pressed a button on his phone that lit up a familiar glowing circle. The suit only took a moment to get on as he had nearly perfected the bracelet tracking and could afford to up the speed without bodily harm. "JARVIS, how's our status?"

"Power levels normal, vital signs normal, suit condition immaculate, Sir. Will that be all?" A smoothly accented voice intoned though the helmet as Tony lowered the faceplate and walked though an area increasingly reminiscent of a garage.

"Hang on, we have a cell signal here, right?" Iron Man pretended to ask. "Of course we do. Get Pepper on the line for me."

"Right away." Despite the monotony in his inflection, the AI still managed to sound exasperated at his creator's inquiry. As usual, Stark ignored it in favor of bossing some SHIELD agents around. They scurried around the shiny metal floor, footfalls echoing through the chamber until they escaped out of the large archway that opened into the blue sky.

"You know, on second thought I don't think I need a Raptor engine, but thanks for the consideration." A click sounded though the helmet's earpiece, halting any more teasing toward the uptight agents who really needed to stop taking everything he said seriously. It might make him feel the slightest tinges of guilt if they never learned. "Pepper, Babe! Operation 'Go Gamma!' is in full swing. I know you know what to do!"

A chuckle came from the other end, clear as day. Pepper had begun to keep her phone's ringer on loud after the invasion. "I know. I hope you realize I planned the whole thing."

"But it was my creative genius that gave it the spark of life!"

"Of course it was, Tony. Just get back here. I'll start making calls and get everything set up by the time you reach the coast."

Stark grinned as he reached the open deck and glanced at a few fighter jets as they arrived from doing whatever. "You are perfection!- Well, almost, not as much as me, but you are very close." He started up his thrusters and made sure that he wasn't going to have to pay for any more planes when he took off. All clear.

The initial takeoff nearly drowned out Pepper's affectionate reply. "I'm sure. Eyes on the sky, Iron Man." The extremely patient and organized woman hung up before anyone could say goodbye or get hung up in chatter. Mechanical sounds and the noise of turbulence were the only things that met Tony's ears until he was moments away from Helicarrier.

"I'll be back soon. Just wait for this, Loki, you won't know what hit you."

"Sir, I don't imagine that Loki can hear you, even with godlike senses."

"Mute unless someone's going to die, JARVIS. I'm not crazy," Tony shot back fondly at his biggest non-human helper as he blazed though the skies toward the sparkling, not-quite-repaired-yet Stark Tower in New York.

* * *

A/N:

1. Thanks again loopyloo2610 for helping me with grammar and difficult stylistic decisions. Also, thanks for the reviews, favorites, alerts, views and whatnot. It's all very encouraging!

2. Quick question: Does the summary make sense? I did it with the shorter character limit but now I have more space so... Could it be better?

3. I like having chapter titles, but they often don't make a whole lot of sense. I'm open to suggestions for change on any of them.

4. I forgot this last time, but it applies to the whole story...

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything from the Marvel Universe, including The Avengers. I only wish that I profited from it.


	3. Calamari Telemarketer

** Through Tinted Panes**

**Chapter 2: Calamari Telemarketers**

Iron Man angled his descent toward the landing pad at Stark Tower, while Pepper sat at the bar waiting for him to arrive. He landed with a thunk and walked casually into his still scarred tower, de-armoring while holding his hand out for a drink. "Peps, how's the recon going?" She looked away from her computer screen, eyebrows and lips twitching upward at the terminology. "Yeah, yeah, I know. SHIELD has been rubbing off on me in all the wrong ways." He gave a dramatic sigh and sprawled onto the barstool next to Pepper's. "But seriously. What do you have so far?"

The bemused expression remained on Pepper's face, but she had long since acclimated to Tony's idiosyncrasies. She turned the screen of her deceptively plain laptop toward Tony. "Hello to you, too. I've contacted most of the major research facilities in this hemisphere and outlined the most promising ones-" Pepper pushed a folder sideways on the countertop "- Here. I've also put the numbers of most of the big-name scientists on a separate sheet to see if they have any personal recommendations for the job. Stay away from Classified and Top Secret info."

"Uh huh, major corps, bigwigs, keep my big mouth shut. Got it. Great advice. I'll be sure to do half of that before next week," Tony turned around as if to leave but instead spun around in place. "You sure you don't want to do the social part of this for me? Your know- You'd be a lot better at not pissing anyone off and maintaining your sanity though all the house calls."

As Tony continued listing all the reasons he should not have to socialize, Pepper shook her head firmly. He was right, of course, but there was no reason to encourage his bad habits, especially the ones that involved shirking responsibilities and increasing her own workload. In addition, she knew that this was one project that he'd be willing to work on. Tony only complained because scientists could often be pompous assholes, to put it in Tony's own words.

"-And I'm sure that Hammer would just hate it if I happened to call and ask a favor. Me! Ask a favor from him! Painful for me, too! So, Pepper, looks like you've been delegated for this so I'll just go and install those theoretical magic sensors-"

Pepper sighed and placed a hand gently on his arm to get his attention and stop the rambling. Tony pretended to be startled. "Yes?" He asked innocently.

"I expect at least a page of numbers done by tomorrow. I need to coerce the legal department."

Pepper smiled coyly and handed Tony his phone before walking away. "Why do you-? Humph," He wordlessly complained to nobody in particular. His phone was very interesting, much more interesting than calling some arrogant big shots and pretending to nice so that they'd actually help him. Was there an app that would do that for him? There should be. He reminded himself to create that as well as his own Life Model Decoy at the next available opportunity.

Tony expended an inordinate amount of willpower on closing all the games and opening the dial option on his Smartphone before work hours ended. Despite his reticence, he knew that most scientists were not as dedicated as he and usually left the lab when they were supposed to. That would be- He checked his watch- in just about two hours or so. A groan escaped him as he poured himself another drink and moved over to the comfy couch. Any moral support was welcome. He'd need it badly.

_There are… way too many people on this list_, Tony bemoaned silently as he dialed in the first one and listened to the tone. A click plus a greeting later, and a throbbing pain was already forming simply due to the vapidity of receptionist in her attempt to be enthusiastic. _I need to tell Pepper to be less thorough next time_, Tony made a mental note as he grit his teeth and turned on his best PR voice. _It's for the sake of humanity_, he reminded himself. The thought didn't help much.

Approximately forty calls later the number of people promptly answering the phone fell sharply, but Stark had managed to score meetings with the greater majority of specialists that were not too intimidated. Somehow, he wasn't as excited about his success as he would be in usual cases. As far as he could tell, most of the people he had spoken to were very typical. Typical simply wouldn't work; he needed extraordinary.

He searched grudgingly down the list for the next undialed number and punched it in as he read it to himself. Hold music played in his ear. It was funny how calming music just ended up pissing people off. As soon as he heard the little beep, he left a Tony Stark styled message for some unfortunate desk jockey to find in the morning.

Tony dialed again and settled down for a long wait, only to be startled by an impatient voice speaking shrilly from the other end. "I am not buying anything from you! We don't have an infestation and even if we did we would not hire exterminators to kill the poor things! I'll have you know-"

"Wrong number?"

There was a sharp intake of air from the other end, and then the other person seemed to hold their breath. Tony counted the seconds and then prepared to hang up on the nutcase. "NoImsorryjustwaitjustasecond -" the man on the other end took another deep breath and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "There was this awful telemarketer and I guess I got a little worked up..." he cleared his throat in a professional manner."This is Hank Pym. How may I help you?"

"Hank?" Tony spat out in blatant and undisguised shock. He had to admit; he was shocked to hear this tone from his mild-mannered, meek, somewhat pacifistic acquaintance. "Who sat in your ant pile?"

"Ummmm, well, I'm sorry but who is this?"

Tony gasped dramatically, but the telephone distorted it to where it sounded like he had put a dying fish on the line instead. "I can't believe- Why, it's the one, the only-"

"Stark? Tony? How- How did you get my personal number?"

"Ha! I think Pepper needs another raise!" She also needed a pay cut for the massive list, so it balanced out.

"Tony," Most of the enthusiasm leaked out of Pym's voice, "I was working on the particles- don't say you don't know about them; I know you do- so if there was something important you needed-"

"I just need you to direct me to the nearest Gamma expert seeing as I'm too busy-you know, don't say you don't know- saving the world along with a few personal endeavors to research it myself."

"Gamma? You're not dying are you?"

Tony's eyes narrowed. Was that why everyone agreed to meet with him so urgently? This might be more complicated than he originally anticipated. "No," He began lowly and carefully, "But it might just have to do with saving lives. Do you know anyone that can trace gamma signatures?"

Clacking of keys, rustling of fabric, and the squeaks of a rolly chair were the traveled through the speaker for a moment as Hank seemed to gather his thoughts. "Stark, I'm not sure if I know of anyone who can help you," Hank said as he shifted the phone to his other ear, "Almost all the specialists I know are in cancer research and other medicine. The rest work on containment. They will probably be more helpful, but there are fewer of them-"

"-Will you be my secretary instead? -"

"-I'll get you in touch with them," Hank ignored Tony's quips about whatever as they most certainly had nothing to do with the conversation at hand and spent a few more minutes typing. "There, you should have them. ...And, uh, Tony, do have any-"

"We'll talk later if this works out," Tony anticipated the question and dismissed it with a simple wave of the hand, "Kay? 'K thanks bye," then he hung up without listening to anything further. Hank was a decent guy, but his neurosis could get grating before too long. Besides, Tony didn't particularly feel like owing him anything at this particular moment and time. Scientific equipment could be _very_ expensive indeed.

He pulled up the email as soon as the little ringer announced its arrival and scanned its contents. "JARVIS, check if any of these are already on the list." Dead silence resounded. That was odd. _Oh_. "Go ahead and unmute."

"Thank you, sir," JARVIS said, his voice layered heavily with irony as he began his comparisons, "Of the ten numbers on that list, you have already called three of them. Six are on the list which leaves-"

"One new number. Which one is it?" Tony poised to dial while Jarvis rattled the number off mechanically. "Hello, this is Tony Stark looking for a specialist in gamma radiation. It's you? Well this saves me some precious time… No, I'm not dying but thanks for making the assumption." He hung up with a massive scowl. "JARVIS, if they think I'm dying, they're uncreative I don't want to deal with them."

"Should I relay that to Ms. Potts?"

"I'll mute you again if you do."

"Very well, Sir."

* * *

"Thank you, Pepper, for training me in the art of a telemarketer," Tony groaned to the only other person in the dull waiting room who effectively ignored everything he had to say. He lounged back in the cheap chair that deeply offended his bruised ribs while he scrutinized the dreary ceiling with a bored glare. This was a highly respected institute, so why did they have water stains in the corners and little bugs in the lights? He scoffed. Already this looked to be another 'miss' if the state of the place and wait time were any indication. Trying to look big and important, were they? It wasn't working. It was just irritating.

The clock ticked many more times before someone appeared. Pepper fixed Tony with a stern but not unkind gaze, reminding him to behave at least until they were back to the plane. A frail man led them down the halls. Inside was the type of room typical to those who thought they were the boss. Massive cherry wood desk, expensive carpet, warm lamps, intimidating curtains, one cushy chair, several less cushy chairs… Everything was present.

The man at the desk- a sturdy, bushy sort of person that looked like he had been built for cold weather- stood up and smiled with crinkled eyes as they entered, but quickly sat down and gestured for them to do the same. Pepper did so graciously. Tony was still walking around, toying with dust collectors on his way over. The doctor looked slightly unsettled by his behavior and moved on to business quickly. "What did I do to deserve the honor of your visit, Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark?"

Tony swept the room with his gaze once more, then flopped unceremoniously into one of the less squishy chairs, crossing one leg over the other and flinging an arm over the back. It definitely was not comfortable, though he liked to think he looked suave and smooth. "Well, Doctor Marcus," He waited for Pepper say something, but she didn't and he was forced to continue, "You haven't done anything yet. We're basically going around to every single gamma specialist we can find and you were next on the list. It was a surprisingly big list. By the way, did you know that certain items emit unique gamma signatures?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows and idly tapping his chin in appraisal. "No I did not. What study supports these claims?" He challenged sternly.

Tony nodded in approval to Pepper, signaling her to keep this man in the running and to provide the proof he requested. A paper or few slid across the grandiose tabletop. SHIELD's information had been carefully edited for civilian purposes, but it still should serve their purpose adequately enough at least for the time being.

Doctor Marcus scanned the documents with something very closely related to skepticism- a very good sign in a scientist- that quickly transformed into pure wonder once he began on his second or third time reading it- another good sign. The man was open to pursuing new lines of research. As much as Tony wanted to dislike the seemingly pompous asshole, it was very possible that he was capable. He ignored the sideways glance that Pepper graced him with, subtly reprimanding him for his dismissive behavior.

"So?" Tony asked after allowing the good Doctor to skim the pages a little longer, "What do you think?"

Doctor Marcus seemed startled by the sudden interruption of his racing mind and jerked his head toward its source. Slowly, he recognized that he was being addressed and lowered the papers from where they were pressed almost to his nose. Pepper nearly giggled. He looked like an excited puppy being presented with all of the squirrels and treats and toys he could ever want. "What do I think? This is remarkable! Normally, well, normally I'd ask for a larger test pool but this has everything," Like a thirsty wanderer, his eyes slid back to the paper and drank in all the information. He looked up. "What is the source?" He asked suspiciously.

Both Tony and Pepper leveled a serious gaze at the Doctor. "Government," Pepper told him simply, leaving it open for interpretation. Someone who pried would be rejected right away.

"Except my bit. Those are highlighted in pink. See? Right there."

Both Pepper and the specialist ignored the somewhat obnoxious pointing in favor of working out details pertaining to labs, schedules, and objectives. The discussion was professional yet animated, but Tony could not help but be bored by the content matter. He carefully stifled a yawn and all desire to interrupt, shifting carefully in the seat and resting his face in his open palm. A Newton's Cradle sat idly on the edge of the desk. Maybe he could play with that for a while. He knew he needed some sort of distraction- _Hmm?_

A _bring_ing noise alerted Tony to his Avengers Card activating. They were of his design, of course, but if it had anything to do with Loki, then he was ninety-nine percent sure that he wanted nothing to do with it. He was only one percent deluded that they would catch him if he answered the distress call. Tony sighed. Fortunately, duty called at the most opportune of moments and he truly hated boredom. Oh well. The distraction might just be worth a beating. "This is the live Tony Stark, what do you need?" He asked, acutely aware of the two sets of eyes on his conversation.

Bewildered by the unexpected wording, Captain America fumbled from the other side of the line. His eyes were wide and his brows were knit in the struggle to comprehend. "Live? What else-? Wait. Tony, we're in New Mexico. How soon can you get here?"

"I'm on the same continent, so let's say thirty minutes tops. Kay?"

"Alright, well Loki-" Tony hung up on him. That was all he needed to know.

Neither Pepper nor the Doctor had blinked during the course of that short conversation. Both stared pointedly at him as he rose and turned. Tony contemplated leaving them hanging, but decided against it. Pepper needed to know and it would be a good test for their candidate.

He waved the little communicator as if it explained all the mysteries in the world, though his audience's obvious question remained unanswered. "Duty calls. You know how it is. Loki decides to show up, we follow. Kind of inefficient, don't you think? It really is. If only we had some way to track that silly subtle little gamma signature he likes carrying around with him. Pepper, " He nodded to her, "You know the drill."

"Right." Pepper straightened and stashed her worry away into a tiny corner of her mind, returning to business mode in a flash. She began to speak, but Tony tuned her out in favor of getting directions from JARVIS. He knew that she knew exactly what to do.

As soon as he reached a convenient area, namely the roof, Tony called on the MARK VII and blasted off to wherever it was the corner map decided to guide him. But wait. "JARVIS?" Tony asked as a thought occurred to him.

"Yes sir?" The AI responded immediately.

"What exactly is in New Mexico?"

"There are cities, universities, mountains-" The deadpan and knowingly off-topic answer was cut off quickly.

"Where are we going?"

"The area where Loki has appeared is arid and near the site of earlier Asgardian activity. I believe it is the same desert where Thor first appeared."

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. Of course. Damn the sand. Nobody even wore bikinis in the godforsaken desert.

* * *

At that very moment, the sand was causing more grief to Hawkeye than it could ever cause to Iron Man and the flat desert terrain provided no decent vantage points to shoot from. His goggles, sunglasses, and eyes were all either lost or filled to inefficiency by grains of yellow dust. The only solace available to him came in the form of shelter, even if all the windows were broken and blustery sand flowed freely in open areas. Damn those magic shrub octopi, damn Loki's blue lightning shit, damn that meathead Thor for whipping up the sandstorm of a lifetime just to hide their position.

He kind of hated the fact that his god buddy was so protective of his science-y girlfriend. More than that, he was definitely irritated by the fact that The Hawkeye, old-school assassin extraordinaire, got stuck on bodyguard duty when he wanted nothing more than to nail a lesson into both Asgardians' heads; with an arrow, preferably a rusty and blunt one.

Hawkeye swore and quickly wiped his eyes with a dusty forearm, focusing his eyes just enough to nail the aggressor. It was tough fighting in such conditions, more independent than team fighting. It kind of ruined the point of 'The Avengers'. Not surprising that Loki would pull something like this, seeing as 'The Avengers' were the only counterforce standing against him at the moment. Pick 'em off one by one…

A beep through his communicator brought him out of his negative musings and alerted him to the fact that Tony Stark was on his way. He scoffed. What good that would do for him with Thor whipping up a sandstorm, Loki magic-ing desert shrub into octopi, and blue lightning stuff flying around, he really didn't know. Unless the great and mighty Iron Man had a spare pair of virbranium enhanced goggles- or something, whatever- he'd still be in the exact same situation.

"Hey smart-ones. Iron Man will be here to provide backup soon. Don't die unless we can somehow blame it on him."

Bang! Selvig reeled from the seeming thousandth kickback from his shotgun. A few feet or so away laid a formerly enchanted shrub octopus with its arms extended, reaching desperately, even in death, to the three figures in the middle of the room. Jane, Selvig, and Darcy had all found ways of defending themselves before Hawkeye got there, and he decided that it was just more efficient to have everyone fighting the waves of vines than just him. They were a funny little group of shotguns, coat hangers and tasers, but they were holding their own with appropriate assistance from their unhappy bodyguard assassin who sat on top of a tall filing cabinet, protecting them from above.

"Hey Nat, Cap? How is the situation out there looking?" From Hawkeye's position, he could hardly see the big picture and it was really getting to him. He wasn't nearly far enough away from the ground and his vision was limited in a way it hadn't been since, well, Siberia in a snowstorm. The best he could do was rely on his teammates, which would give him a foggy picture at best.

"Just a minute-"

"Sorry, Loki's-"

Hawkeye waited for a moment, keeping his eyes unfocused on any one area so that he could see and react to any moment quickly. He resisted the urge to whistle. The 'whump'ing and exploding sounds from the other line were really very entertaining, though it was saddening that he couldn't actually see the conflicts as they were going on.

"Hawkeye, Loki's stalling for something. He's running away, but he's destroying the ground in front of me so I can't catch up. I'm working on it," Captain America sounded mildly irritated about the whole situation, but there was an undercurrent of relief tinting his words. "But all the action is moving away from the civilian population, so Thor will be free once Loki finishes his move."

The sounds of violence from Black Widow's end lasted a bit longer than Cap's, but they soon ended as well. "In what direction are they headed? I'm north of Hawkeye's position and Loki's enchantments are heading south."

"He's heading toward Foster's location?"

"He's heading toward Foster's location," Hawkeye muttered, cutting the connection until the next time one of them needed to get in touch with him. He swung his quiver around to check, just in case, that he had enough arrows to deal with a flood. One… Two… He counted very quickly and deduced that they would survive if it was a little flood and not a big one.

"Hey you three. Watch out. Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better."

"What do you mean by that?" The two scientists asked along the same lines.

"Those wiggly things look pissed off. What did you do to them this time, purples?"

Hawkeye didn't take the time to reply to Darcy. There were too many 'wiggly things' out there and too many almost-defenseless VIPs in here. He activated his communicator and said quietly to whoever was in range, "I can hold them for sure- let's say- for ten minutes. Someone should probably get their ass over here before then."

"Stark-"

"Busy here," Tony replied quickly and dismissively to Agent Romanoff. Really, honestly, he was busy. He had just gotten in from Canada and was trying to grasp the situation while evading lightning from both sources, correcting his flight path for high winds, and aiming his repulsor beams to where they would actually do a decent amount of damage to places that he actually wanted to do some damage. It wasn't the easiest task he'd been faced with all day.

The line was silent for a minute and Tony decided that it must not have been very important if the notoriously thorough Black Widow could be persuaded to give up that easily. He didn't hear the sounds of struggle, focused more on the sounds near him than ones far away. The next time he heard a female's voice, it was full of ice and promises that he did not want to hear.

"Tony Stark. You will get over to the coordinates I sent you. It is the highest concentration of aggressors as well as the location of key individuals Selvig, Darcy, and Foster. Thor can stall Loki. Do not make me ask again."

Damn. What a threat. Why were all the women in his life lately the terrifying kind that could gouge out his eyes with stilettos all the while exposing his secrets to the world? He needed to be a better judge of character in the future.

He sighed halfheartedly and not loudly enough for it to be heard by anyone else. "On it, sugar," He replied as cheerily as he could and made his way out of the center of the storm. His path was a beeline, as there were no pesky trees or mountains in this desert to get in his way; one of the few upsides to fighting in a desert. Another upside was the complete ease of finding a rare human habitation, though Tony quickly decided that a good portion of his target's clarity was due to the wriggling mess around it.

"I'm here, Legolas. Clean up the inside for me, will you?"

"Already on it. Watch out for the nerds, though. They've got a mean shot."

Tony chuckled and set his repulsors to a hold setting so that he could take out large chunks of the 'enchanted forest' without firing multiple blasts. The work was surprisingly easy once he cleared out the edge around the structure. All he really had to do was hover and point at the nearest wiggling mass; no dodging required on his part. Loki wasn't even good enough to give his minions a sense of self-preservation.

All the commotion within the building slowly tapered off into nothing once Iron Man took out most of the surrounding enchanted plants. Hawkeye managed to take out the vast majority of the remaining invaders with his arrows, supported occasionally by the scientists he was protecting. Iron Man hovered to the ground where his nerdy acquaintances emerged from their cave to see what was going on, encouraged by the lessening wind speed.

Thor came hurtling through the air and landed harshly on the tightly packed sand. He looked directly at Jane and embraced her tightly. After a moment he held her at arm's length and said, "The others are safe. Are you, and everyone, safe as well?"

"Where's Loki?" Tony asked from the background.

Jane patted one of Thor's arms reassuringly and smiled. "Darcy insists that she's allergic to sand, but none of us were really hurt."

"Loki?" Clint reemphasized with a phone glued to the side of his head.

"He retreated once he ran out of plants to transform," Thor responded dismissively and checked Jane's expression for honesty. "I'm glad that today was only mischief."

Jane looked back at her lab and winced, her expression falling quickly. "Actually, Thor, we were doing some really important work today and we had to call off the trials when we noticed the anomalies." Selvig nodded empathically, not quite as torn up at the loss as Jane, but close.

Darcy stood a little ways away. "Yeah. It'll take for-ever to start again. I mean just look at this satellite thingy."

The head scientist gave something that sounded something like a cross between a laugh and a sob. "Darcy. It's a transmitter. It doesn't even orbit anything." She gave a forced, but still somewhat optimistic smile at Thor. "I think I need to catalogue the damages. So-"

"Oh. Ouch. They got the van, too."

"Ugh," She shook her head, "Anyway, don't worry about us. Go Avenge someone else. We'll get in contact with Asgard. Eventually."

Jane began to push away from Thor, who nodded solemnly, but she was stopped in her tracks by a heavy, metal palm. Tony shook his head fervently. "Nope, not happening. Loki needs a break and so do I, you, him, and various other people who I cannot be bothered to remember. Coffee- lots- is what this situation calls for. JARVIS will babysit your stuff while we're gone."

"But this is very high priority-"

"Free coffee? I'm totally in," Darcy interrupted with less disregard to Jane's wishes than immediately apparent. She knew for a fact that Jane couldn't tell when she was overworked or not and took it as her personal mission to keep Jane working in a healthy state. Cookies and coffee were her bread and butter.

Jane still looked hesitant, but relented as soon as she realized exactly who she was talking to. "Alright," She said, "But no 'Another!'s, broken glasses, or anomalies this time. If we're going to relax we have to do it correctly."

"Very well, dearest Jane. Shall we fly?" Thor boomed happily.

"I don't think that's a very good idea-"

"Yes," Tony cut in, "We have to fly. I just told Cap and we have to beat them there."

Hawkeye approached the group looking tense, even more so than he had while 'vanquishing hordes of foes'. He had just gotten off of the phone with Director Fury. Just about five minutes ago, and just a few after Loki vanished from New Mexico, the God of Mischief was sighted in Michigan of all places. Supposedly, all the fish in a lake learned to fly spontaneously. Hawkeye frowned. Sure, it was just a small bit of mischief, but it proved something else: Loki could lure them out, get the Avengers chasing his tail like rabbits on the hunt, and he would still be able to get away and do whatever he wanted, given enough time and until it was done, there was absolutely nothing any of them could do about it.

He slid a practiced smirk onto his face. "So which one of you is going to carry handsome Dr. Selvig and myself?"

* * *

Nick Fury and a longtime acquaintance from the military, General Hoffman, walked in a deceptively casual manner down just one busy hall of the Helicarrier. Neither of them faced the other unless to prevent collisions or other disasters of the potentially diplomatically catastrophic. The subject matter was simple: greater collaboration between the American Military and the International Organization SHIELD, especially when involving the imminent, otherworldly threat of Loki. So far, as reflected by the slight tightening in Fury's grip, it was not going well.

He asked once more, "So will you or will you not assist SHIELD special task forces as we respond to Loki's aggression?"

They came to a door, slow to open. The General took the forced hesitation and met Fury's eye directly. "I wish we could help-" There was no hint of a lie in his earnest brown eyes "-But unfortunately politics-" He said it with much distaste "-prevent us from getting directly involved."

Director Fury opened his mouth, a response prepared in advance for such an outcome poised on his lips, but he was not finished. "I know your request is urgent. Elections, crazy foreign forces, and superstition are not sufficient to neglect the safety of our charges." The General looked uncomfortable. "I have some that agree with me. We will be pulling strings as we can. Just don't expect any miracles."

"I see. For our part we will warn the military of any detected threats to American soil. Don't expect any miracles from us, either. Especially not against a god."

The two parted ways. One disappointed and the other regretful. Neither satisfied with the bleak future seeming to loom over mankind.

* * *

The Avengers and company ate comfortably, though not in a relaxed manner.

"This was a good idea, wasn't it? It really was. See? Even Ms. Jane Foster is enjoying her 'cuppa joe'. You know, I saw a shawarma place after New York- the first time- and I think we shoulda gone. It sounds good like Schlotzky's."

The place they ate in had a relatively normal name. It wasn't a big enough store to pull off a nonsensical name like 'Starbucks', and so it stuck to the simple and easy. Possessive name plus general coffee related term was naming convention gold. Inside was much the same. Generic white furniture stood on classic black and white tiles. Red stools near the bar and a slightly peeling mural of a cityscape- probably the only unique facet of the business- gave the place a decidedly retro feel. Steve was thrilled enough to tolerate Tony's self-glorifying chatter for a while.

"Do you know how many Cals you get from one of those places? Healthy sandwich my-"

"Darcy!" Jane prevented too much profanity from leaving her friend's mouth. "It's true that it's better than a burger place-"

"So. Criminally. Fatteningly. Good."

"-But it's all about the portions." Jane emphasized, looking a little disgusted at any memory of fast food, despite the fact that her scientist's schedule often relegated her diet to nothing but. It was sometimes worse than a college student's.

"Is fast food unhealthy? I must tell Sir Volstagg, immediately."

Tony withdrew subtly from the conversation that he had started and watched the friends, acquaintances, and forced associates break off into little conversational groups. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and no one was purposefully excluded. Steve seemed equal parts perplexed and enthralled by Darcy's near constant references to popular culture. She, Jane, and Thor were deeply engaged in a serious conversation about undeniably trivial matters. Clint and Natasha had their heads bowed in deep concentration about what Tony was pretty sure that he didn't want to know- but really actually did. As for himself, Tony realized that he really didn't play well with others and left them to their pleasant chats. It would at least give him time to accomplish what he came to do.

"So, Dr. Selvig," Tony got up and slid into the seat next to the astrophysicist, "I couldn't stop thinking about what you said the last time we spoke." Almost instinctively understanding that Stark didn't just want casual chatter, Selvig his chair a little and clasped his hands together in case of a long conversation. Unfortunately, while he respected and trusted- somewhat- the engineer, he couldn't help but be intimidated by the power Stark wielded almost carelessly at times.

"You mean the Tesseract?" He asked seriously.

"I do. I remember hearing that you studied it under SHIELD, extensively. I also remember that you didn't offer to help out a poor, lost billionaire in his quest to help someone find the Tesseract to find Loki. So I'm here to ask you now, Doctor of Astrophysics, Dr. Selvig. Can you, will you help, pretty please?"

He closed his eyes and half-bowed his head regretfully. "My research was of the more practical sort. I know what it does, how it behaves, what it is capable of." Selvig looked at his hands, then met Tony's eyes firmly. "But I cannot find it for you."

Tony waved his right hand dismissively and rested his chin on the other. "No problem, I've got it covered. I'm working on it."

"Huh?" Not quite the response Selvig expected. "I mean, how do you have it covered?"

"Phone calls and stuff. Yeah, yeah. There are some smart people out there that aren't quite cool enough to build battle armor. Can you consult for them? Nothing too SHIELD contrary. Just yes or no answers," Stark rambled on, ignoring the expression that told him the precise rate at which Selvig was processing the turn of events. "I'm pressing forward in the Gamma direction. If there are any other waves or fields emanating from the 'cosmic cube'- sounds superstitious, but whatever- I'd love to know."

Selvig looked up sharply. "Gamma? You're taking the Gamma route?" He shook his head, knitted his forehead, and gazed incredulously at Stark. "Gamma is a very difficult field, dangerous, too. Well," Selvig looked bitter at this point, "According to the rumors."

"Yes I know, I've been told by just about every other person I've talked to in the past week," Tony said and frowned impatiently. "I just need names and Boolean responses."

"Alright, then." If Tony Stark had the situation covered in a way that could potentially neutralize the Loki threat, Selvig was going to offer any assistance he could. He cleared his throat, "The military had a huge push for gamma research a few years ago. Have you approached-"

"Personal recommendations?" Tony really, really didn't want to talk to every member of the reportedly huge project, especially those that he may already have spoken to.

Carefully, Selvig sorted through a few people he remembered clearly from his experience. "Alexander Julius was one of the few to continue in the same line of research after the project ended. Marie Tyler went into Oncology. So did Ian and Ray Bagrov. Bala Amra went into psychiatrics. Bruce Banner, the head researcher on the project, is not in the field any more. He's had some mental health issues lately," He sighed, "But, then again, many brilliant men do."

Tony raised an eyebrow pressed forward, "But he knew what he was doing."

"Absolutely. He was a pioneer in his field; wanted to revolutionize- clean up- nuclear energy," Selvig gave a wry chuckle and a sideways glance to Tony. "He might have given your arc reactor a run for its money."

Tony scoffed incredulously, "A beacon of self-sustaining energy cannot be surpassed by radiation of any kind."

"Maybe not, but do you consider solar energy? Despite the fact that your energy source lasts a very long time, it is not indefinite. Do you have clean plans for mining the material?"

"Stark Industries secret, or so Pepper says. I say that yes we do, and no, we're not building a sun-powered death ray."

Selvig was aghast, though only sarcastically, "Goodness, I would hope not."

"Would that contraption give me a tan in less than ten minutes? If so, I'll sponsor it for sure," Darcy called, interrupting Jane's conversation on Asgard with Thor and not-so-subtly revealing her penchant for eavesdropping.

Tony replied quickly and wittily, speaking right over whatever question Captain America had this time. Though his words were just as sharp as always, his mind was working overtime with the information Selvig had provided him with. Not much, really, just assurance that they'd have a Tesseract expert to compliment the new batch of gamma experts he had found.

He used an explosion in decibels, courtesy of Thor, as an opportunity to text Pepper.

'Need information: Alexander Julius, Marie Tyler, Ian Bagrov, Ray Bagrov, Bala Amra, Bruce Banner (Military-sponsored gamma)- Crazy group. Genius=/=normal. Selvig = good.'

Miles away, Pepper was finishing up a meeting fairly successfully, though not ideally. She looked at her phone and rolled her eyes.

* * *

Tony sprawled in a spinning chair, keeping the dizzying motion constant with a kick to the desk every time it came around. "Hello, Mr. Bagrov. Oh, you're both there? That's wonderful. Perfect. Easy button simple. Well, I'm calling to find out how you would feel about working on a project involving gamma." The response was not pleasing and caused Tony to sit straight up. "Never again? Why not?" A click sounded.

"Pepper! They hung up on me!"

As she was working on something that should have been Stark's responsibility, she had little mercy. "Work harder. Be nicer. Keep going."

He groaned and dialed the next number. "Hi there, hi, hi, Dr. Amra. This is Tony Stark. What? No, I do not have issues with substance abuse. Should I point you in the direction of a certain supersoldier? There are some fishy steroids at work there, so- Nope. 'Kthanksbye." Useless.

"Greetings, Dr. Tyler. My name is Tony Stark and I've been assembling a team-" Tony had to stop himself from cracking up at the memory of Nick Fury's recruiting strategies, "-of people knowledgeable in the field of gamma radiation… I understand. I appreciate the explanation… You too."

Tony looked at the phone in his hand in horror. "Pepper! I'm starting to sound nice!"

"Good, good." She didn't even look up.

He grumbled to himself about how that definitely was not supposed to happen and how he definitely blamed nice people who were so polite he'd feel bad insulting them over the phone. The dial tone rang for many moments on the next call. He called again, then a clear voice sounded from the other line. "I'm sorry for the delay, but Dr. Julius is out today. May I take a message?"

"No, I'll just call back later," Tony hung up quickly and punched in the next number, not yet hitting the 'call' button. "Hey Peps. I'm calling the crazy one."

"Uh huh."

"Really, I am. I have no idea what's going to happen."

"Sure."

Satisfied that Pepper was not paying nearly enough attention to hinder his daily dose of fun, Tony finally pressed down to call. It rung for a few minutes, but was answered relatively quickly. "Hello, is Dr. Banner in today?"

The receptionist on the other end had a wavering, halting voice. "Yes… He is… always in."

"Great! Can I speak with him?"

"No!" The girl said sharply, shrilly, hurting Tony's eardrums and drawing the vague attention of Pepper through the speaker. "Uh, I mean, no. I'm sorry, but he, umm, is not permitted out of the back rooms… or to handle corded phones… or technology." Silence reigned. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Tony replied distractedly. "Thanks for the info. Have a nice day."

"Oh! You too-"The receptionist looked at the phone in confusion. It had been hung up. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then slapped a hand on her forehead. She forgot to get his name.

* * *

"I will say this one more time, only," Pepper warned with a neutral expression on her face that belied her irritation, "I think that this is a very, very bad idea."

Down a nondescript sidewalk, Tony and Pepper walked side-by-side in the fading vibrancy of the evening. They had left their very nice, very obtrusive vehicle a ways behind, figuring that any excitement would be detrimental to their cause. Leaves crunched underfoot, reflecting the bite of the temperature and Pepper's foul mood. While she wasn't unused to being overridden, she wasn't pleased at being completely ignored.

Tony stayed silent, pretending to enjoy the still atmosphere which, to be honest, he hadn't really noticed. He hummed flatly and shifted. "I know you think it's a bad idea, but I'm curious now." Pepper looked at him and then looked away sharply, disapprovingly.

They walked a little further. "The reports say that he went insane, violently so. That's why I didn't put him on the list," Pepper continued worriedly, "We have to be careful."

Tony approached the front of the hospital, turning around to look at her before they went any further. "Peps," he encouraged, "I would be in a mental institution if more than five people knew me the way you do. Self-destructive, volatile, doesn't play well with others. Remember? Let's just give it a shot. Worst that happens is we leave and never return. Totally forget it." The door was right in front of him, so Tony turned around and held it in a gentlemanly- albeit joking- fashion.

Pepper relented, smiled and shrugged her permission, but refused to play along with Tony's entirely too obvious attempt to appease her. She went first through the door, followed closely by her employer who couldn't help but shiver at the sudden change in lighting and temperature. Tony sauntered forward, or attempted to, slightly inhibited by the heebie-jeebie vibes he picked up from the 'don't talk to the patients, they'll bite one of your limbs off' caution exhibited by the staff. "Hello," he smiled brightly to the suspicious lady at the front desk who had probably been working there for several years too long, "I called the other day. I would like to make a visit to Dr. Bruce Banner." Pepper gave Tony a look and little gesture which he instinctively picked up. He grimaced. "Please?"

The woman- Mrs. Sunny, ha- looked at Tony up and down, then flatly, her thin mouth stretched wide in a line. "Are ya a relative?"

"Uh, yes, absolutely!" Tony lied cleanly.

"No, Mr. Stark."

"Oh." Fame had its disadvantages.

"No is no. Do ya have any papers?" She held out her hand and snapped her fingers expectantly, rudely.

Tony stared down at the fingers with his eyes wide and uncomprehending. He turned back to Pepper and mouthed various requests for help. She, also irked and unsettled by the 'customer service', clacked forward and nodded politely. "Which papers do you need to see?" She asked, gesturing at the briefcase she carried full of papers of every sort as well as a tablet she could use to pull up the digital equivalent.

Mrs. Sunny raised both eyebrows incredulously. "You two did not do your research. Permission slips are what y'all need. Now git. I'm not gonna waste any more time on y'all if all you're doin' is stabbin' in the dark. Ya might poke my eye out-"

"Mrs. Sunny," a young girl, uncertain, straight out of college, and very plain, came bustling out of the office door behind the front desk, "I'm very sorry, but we had a breakdown with a patient and-"

"Bah!" Mrs. Sunny whirled around and completely disregarded the existence of two very powerful people in favor of disciplining an employee. "This is strike four for you. Be goshdarned sure you're on time tomorrow. You can deal with these two jokers. Don't go and cave if they can't pull up the paperwork to see the Bell Pepper."

The girl winced as her superior bustled past her, slamming the door and grumbling something about coffee, children these days, or the cost of sending one measly child to college. She smiled weakly and sat down gently in the chair. Her hands found the keyboard and fluttered over them. "I'm very sorry about that. She gets grumpy when she stays longer than her shift. It's my fault. What can I help you with?"

Pepper politely responded, "We were hoping to see Bruce Banner today."

Across the desk, the girl's eyes widened comically and her hands flew up to her face. There was a moment where the only sound in the room was a massive intake of air. "Oh my goodness! I am- Wow, I am so sorry. I should have, well, I should have told you that the military restricts his visitations… And that he's considered high risk and-" She paused in her ramblings and scanned the room. "That, uh, was you yesterday, right?"

Tony confirmed her suspicions and attempted to follow her gaze. Nobody was around. Why was she so nervous? She looked hastily over her shoulder where her boss supposedly remained, then met his eyes directly and assertively for the first time. "I was late because Banner had another episode. They'll be transferring him across that hall-" She pointed to a long, open hallway on the right, then pointed to a door in the opposite direction "-from over there. You won't be able to talk to him while he's in a mood but you didn't have the clearance papers from the military anyway. Just – just sit over there and pretend you don't know me. I don't want to get in trouble again."

Pepper took the information with no questions asked. "Thank you," she said, "We appreciate the help." She turned around and started walking. However, the absence of Tony's heavier footfalls caused her to stop and look for him.

There he stood, in the same place as moments before, trying to puzzle out the intern that would no longer meet his gaze. Was she trying to dissuade him from finding anything else out? Did she want to cover her earlier mistake? Could she be- Oh shit. Whatever the motive, the receptionist definitely wanted Tony away from the front desk as soon as muffled sounds of struggle became audible through the door to the left. She was willing to shove and swat him in order to get it done.

The waiting area where Pepper and Tony sat was a quaint place, filled to the brim with trashy magazines and libelous newspapers. Both quickly grabbed one and hid their faces up to their nose with the cheap material. It was an unnecessary precaution, because none of the people who could have cared had any attention to spare.

The door burst open, and the poor man who turned the knob almost fell over when the hard surface finally gave way to the force of four other men trying to get from point A to B as quickly as humanly possible. One resisted the transit. In a sea of formerly snappy security uniforms, silent but coordinated struggle, and deliberately large frames, a small, sloppy, curly haired man fought every movement, bellowing incomprehensible statements of rage and accusation to anyone near enough to hear.

Surprisingly, impossibly, about half the time the patient got his way. A bite allowed him to recapture a few feet of distance. The doorframe provided an excellent place to tackle someone into. Heels dug into the ground were cliché, but still very effective at preventing involuntary travel. It was obvious that Bruce Banner didn't know how to fight, not like the trained men holding him did, but the sheer magnitude of his resistance made them look like children being flung off of a real- and very angry- bucking bronco.

"ANGRY!"

"Hold on!"

"LEAVE ALONE! GO AWAY!"

"Just a few more feet!"

"SMASH YOU ALL!"

"SUNNY!" One of the guards shouted from the unfortunate position of holding an elbow. "Get the sedative! Increase the dose!"

About five more people emerged from the office door, one of which was Mrs. Sunny who looked less grumpy and more professional than she had before. In her hand, she held emergency sedative for obvious purposes. Sunny herself was kept around for her expertise at dealing with difficult patients. "Hold 'em still," She commanded as she entered the fray. A long two minutes after she did so, the scene calmed down, the majority of the people backed away to lick their wounds- metaphorical or otherwise. Two people- fresh bodies, not tired from the long struggle- remained behind to hold Banner. "Get back to work," Sunny ordered with a small glimmer of mercy. Most people, including her, dispersed. Little Miss Intern remained, looking shell-shocked and very guilty. The two responsible for their troublemaker shared a glance and picked him further off the ground, carrying him gently and with a caution caused more by fear than care. It was a quiet end to the loud spectacle of before. The door at the end of the hall opened, showing a sliver of green, and then shut with a final, resounding click.

In the lingering silence, tense with remnants of the previous struggle, Pepper was pale and shaken. "That did not match Selvig's description. We-"

"Yes it did," Tony said with certainty, his eyes bright with a new idea and determination. "A military-related and completely brilliant scientist that went violently insane. Who else could it be?"

"I don't think that we'll get anything out of him."

Tony waved her concerns away, eyes still glued on the door at the end of the long hallway. "Yes we can. It won't come straight, but it'll at least help things along once we get it."

Pepper's eyes narrowed. "What's the real reason?"

Finally, Tony turned away from the target of his fascination. He took in Pepper's very concerned look, the possible consequences, and the multitude of rewards. Not a whole lot could stop him now. "I have a feeling- a good one- about Dr. Bruce Banner. He's intriguing. You don't just become un-brilliant."

Fiery locks shook as Pepper realized- "You're not going to-"

Tony's mouth widened into a grin that he knew would annoy Pepper, but could not prevent. "That's right! We're talking to Rhodey." He abruptly stood up and spun around to walk backwards. A little jig was in his step and he excitedly called back to Pepper that there was a lot of work to be done.

A pale forehead dropped into cupped hands at the hopelessness of the situation. Pepper sighed.

* * *

A/N:

1. Hello! Sorry it's been such a while. I had a rather nasty concussion + obligatory make up work from school... So...

2. Because of my medical mishap, I haven't written in a while... And as such, I've kind of lost inspiration (there are so many ideas, but I don't quite remember where I was going with them...). I have a little more written, but I'd like to ask if anyone actually wants this to continue after reading this chapter. Otherwise I have some other ideas floating around... But! If anyone wants this finished, I'll be sure to keep going and give it the completion it deserves!

3. Also, sorry for not responding to all the reviews. They just make my day when I read them, though. (Especially when someone enjoyed Loki's shenanigans that were nearly condensed.)

4. This chapter is un-Beta'd, so I'm sure that there are errors and things that could have been cut/clarified. Please let me know if you see any mistakes or have any confusion!

Edit: Sorry if anyone got two notices. It wouldn't put in my linebreaks.


	4. Sunshine and Green Beans

**Through Tinted Panes**

**Chapter 3: Sunshine and Green Beans**

Rhodey, loyal member of the United States Airforce and one of Tony's closest friends, often wondered why he put up with the man.

"You want me to do what?"

"I want you to get me access to Bruce Banner," Tony replied with a healthy dose of flippancy, "A General would be best, but a Colonel's word would probably work, too."

"I heard what you said," Rhodey frowned, "I was just expressing incredulity—Are you crazy? What are you going to do with him? Are you going to test the durability of your equipment?" Despite his reticent words and rapidly increasing pitch, Rhodey was already on the computer, trying to figure out who and what he'd need to make this happen. It was rare that Tony requested anything related to the military, at least now that he'd quit weapons. As a friend he was going to trust that Tony knew what he was doing for once; maybe.

"It's The Avengers," Tony said very seriously. "Loki's out of control and I need Banner's help. I'm part of something bigger now and I can't let my team down."

Rhodey was impressed. Tony was really selling this maturity stuff. But still: "I'll call you on that Bullshit, but I'll see what I can to this time. But if anyone finds a neutron bomb in a garage, I don't know you."

"He can do that?" The excitement in Tony's voice shone through the phone, bothered not at all that his ploy failed.

"He could. Past-tense. Probably with your pieces of scrap." The special address book in Rhodey's computer completed his search. The results were promising. "I'm not sure anyone with half a brain would give a guy like that to Tony Stark, but I'll have your answer before the end of the week."

"Great," The relief was muted but perceptible, "Thanks. But don't ask anyone who will sue me."

Rhodey went to say goodbye, but Tony had already hung up. Typical, but still irksome. _Here goes nothing_.

* * *

It didn't take as long as Rhodey had anticipated to get in contact with a highly ranking superior, one with known sympathies toward mutants, mutates, and other freaks of nature. Most suspected his New York origins to be the cause; others blamed a long-standing admiration to a certain defrosted super soldier. Either or any way, he was displeased by the reticence of his organization to assist with extraterrestrial or supernatural threats.

It was an encouraging rumor, but the General was fair and Tony didn't have the best track record.

Rhodey met with him after he finished surveying some new recruits in his program. Both were completely professional, though some weariness seeped through purely in their demeanor. It had been a long week for both of them. "Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, I received your message," The Air Force General greeted, getting straight to the point, "It sounded urgent, but you neglected to tell me why."

"Yes Sir, General Hoffman," Rhodey responded confidently, "The request I received from Tony Stark sounded urgent as well. I don't have the authority to fulfill or deny his request, but I chose to be discreet in case of an uproar." It went without saying that Tony Stark was a controversial figure. Hoffman motioned patiently for him to continue. "Stark requested access to Dr. Bruce Banner. He claimed that it was Loki and Avengers related but did not say how."

There was an uncomfortable pause and the other man's eyebrows shot up almost comically. But then the General laughed, deeply and loudly. Rhodey's hopes shrunk with each breath the officer took. When he calmed down he waved his hand in an almost careless manner. "Alright, permission granted. He can even bring a couple of helpers with him if that's what he wants."

"Sir?" It was impossible to hide Rhodey's disbelief.

"I'll send the details directly to you later so you can pass them on. Tell him the good news."

"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

"Have a good day, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes," General Hoffman said and walked off to where ever else the very busy man had to be. Rhodey could have sworn he heard him muttering and chucking as he left the room. It was something about eye patches, loopholes, and favors. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but what amused the General really wasn't his business. It would be better for his stress level to inform Tony and extricate himself from this mess.

* * *

"You're in. Visiting hours are from 6 to 9 PM and you're allowed to bring two people along with you as long as they don't have a major criminal history and are a United States citizen."

"Yes!" Tony cheered and pulled the phone away from his mouth, covering the speaking end. "I told you so," he said to Pepper and returned to Rhodey. "Is that it? Any fine print or invisible ink?"

"I don't think so—"

"Great!"

Tony hung up. Rhodey stared at the phone blankly, then got back to work.

* * *

They took a car back to the hospital for visiting hours. 'They' included Tony, Pepper, and one person that might have broken the rules a little: Natasha Romanoff. Tony was almost certain that she'd spied, killed, hacked, lied, and sabotaged more than what would gain her a 'major criminal history', but nobody was asking and she wasn't telling. Actually, she wasn't telling anyone anything at all, despite various attempts to strike up a conversation. She listened to the information she needed, and responded dryly to comments of her choosing. Then no more small talk for Miss Romanoff.

Tony grumpily stared out the window. He detested being ignored.

The car stopped and the party of three stepped up to the hospital's entrance. Tony glanced over at Natasha. She seemed calm and cool and whatever, but he doubted that it was an accurate reading. For a normal person—relatively speaking, that is—he was a pretty good people preceptor and he trusted his gut instincts for the most part.

But Black Widow was in another league. Minus the whole manipulation and secrecy bit, she always did a good job. That was why she was here. Well, it was why Tony had asked her to be here. Apparently the infamous Widow had tired of putting agents through near impossible tasks and had enough free time to help him out. Why she had agreed remained a mystery to the genius.

However, genius being a title that Tony very much enjoyed, he was not going to voice his questions nor question his astounding luck. His time would be much better spent slapping his shiny new legal documents down on Mrs. Sunny's desk. He did just that once he stepped into the lobby and clacked across the unwelcoming tile floor. Tony smiled in a smug sort of fashion. Even if the visit was a complete and utter failure, the trip was worth it for the look on the authoritative woman's face.

"Here they are, fresh out of the mail, straight from the office of an understanding General," Tony said as Sunny recovered.

She shook her head, still disbelieving as she carefully, meticulously, and strictly checked the forms. They were all in order, all real, and all unbelievable. Sunny leaned back and eyed the three of them sternly, but lingered especially on the Stark. Nothing but trouble, all of them. "Be quick about whatever y'all're going to do. Follow the patient visiting rules, keep an employee with you at all times, don'tcha dare get too close to him, and check up if y'all want to do anything even slightly questionable." She paused, glaring. "And don't provoke Dr. Banner. This is a hospital not a zoo."

Pepper placed a hand on Tony's arm, gently reminding him to be professional. The woman certainly had the right to caution and Pepper couldn't fault her for suspicion after the events of their last appearance. "We appreciate this, thank you. When may we see him?"

Sunny waved her hand in a 'whatever'-like way. "If yer so determined to see him, go ahead."

Pepper gave quick thanks and all but dragged Tony in the direction indicated with Agent Romanoff trailing unobtrusively behind them. Pepper spared a glance at the desk right before they were buzzed in and greeted by unusually frazzled guards. Her people skills told her that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was just—Sunny looked very weary indeed.

The door shut behind them, leaving the group to awkwardly stroll along with the trained security officers, though Tony's somewhat one-sided babbling permeated the silence. To their credit, they attempted to meet the small talk with professional responses but Tony being Tony just had to make the questions less PC and more invasive with every encouragement. Even more to their credit, they stopped once they realized this as well. The group made its way through several sets of doors, all painted a vivid green. Natasha quickly surmised that this was for any poor soul who had to transfer Doctor Banner in a hurry with Pepper and Tony quickly coming to the same conclusion. The obnoxious billionaire found himself picturing everyone in a slightly more colorful version of 'Silence of the Lambs', minus the cannibalism of course. Because the files he'd hacked hadn't said anything about that.

Tony's comparison was not too far off, actually. After so many halls and doors and rooms, it was doubtful that anyone could find their way out without the beacon of green that only appeared on the entry side. It seemed like painstaking care had been put into making it a challenge for someone to get out of there without a guide. There was only one cell in the room, clearly customized for a particular patient's needs.

For one, the entire room was a shocking green, the same color as the doors marking the way. A thick sheet of glass divided the visiting from the patient side with a few holes at the top, presumably for breathing. It was probably one-way, Tony deduced from the fact that the patient hadn't even acknowledged their presence. On the other side of the glass was a plethora of squishy things: walls, floors, pillows, and what looked like oversized chew toys all strewn about the room. Someone had thrown a tantrum, it seemed.

Dr. Banner didn't look like much. He sat with his legs loosely crossed, hunched over himself with his hands touching the ground; Gorilla-like, and very still. Of all the Neanderthals that Natasha had dealt with, never had one been graced with such beastly body language. Former scientist or not, Natasha couldn't fathom Stark's interest.

The guards tapped on the glass lightly, and the man's eyes locked onto the glass, slightly unfocused. "Mr. Banner, you have some visitors today," one of them said uncertainly, speaking slowly and cautiously. When they clicked the light on, the one-way illusion dropped. Banner's eyes slid absently across the new faces, not quite focusing on any of them in particular and not quite reacting to their presence.

Tony sat down, cross-legged, close enough to press his face to the transparent surface if the childlike impulse hit him. A low rumble from the other side—a growl—reached Tony's ears. He gaped for a moment. He'd been reacted to in many ways, but usually it took some provocation to elicit a growl. "I, ah," Tony hesitated, perhaps uncharacteristically.

"Good morning, Mister Banner," Natasha slid into place and conversation smoothly, sitting down in a similarly crisscrossed position just a few inches further back than Tony. "My name is Natalie Rushman. This is—"

"Tony Stark." He cut a glance at 'Natalie'.

"And Miss Pepper Potts," The absolutely flawless con woman continued seamlessly, anticipating her 'employer's interruption. After a clack of heels and a greeting, Pepper was on the cool tile floor with the rest of them sitting precariously in her immaculate pencil skirt. "We were informed of your expertise in the area of gamma radiation, and are in desperate need of someone with your knowledge."

There was little to no indication that Bruce registered the words at all. He shifted one arm to rest on a knee, but nothing else.

For a moment, silence reigned. Tony was more than happy to fill the void with conversation, not all of it relevant, but most enough to get a reaction out of most people. About half of the chatter engaged the patient—at least, he was looking at the wall in their general direction—and the other half cause his eyes to glaze over. Occasionally the other two would make interjections, but neither could match the sheer multitude of Tony's words.

Banner unfolded his legs and stood. Tony quieted hopefully, uncertainly as their target lumbered toward them. A fist lashed out and hit the barrier between them. The visitors recoiled. The fist just kept pounding. "Go away," Banner demanded with every blow. "Go away. Go away."

Pepper glanced up and caught the eye of one of the guards. He shook his head. Pepper placed a hand on Tony's arm and pulled away. They would not be getting anywhere with him this time.

Tony got up without saying goodbye and the trio was led back through the same green-marked pathway to the entrance of the sterile hospital. As soon as the door opened into the lobby Natasha brushed past everyone in her way, taking silent steps all the way up to the front desk. "Mr. Stark will be back tomorrow evening. Please be sure that Dr. Banner is not in a drug-induced stupor."

Tony waited until they were outside to ask, "How did you know?"

Natasha spared him a short glance, then looked away. "I'm a good judge of character, remember?"

* * *

"Mornin' sunshine and greenbeans, I'm back."

Tony sauntered into the room and dropped into a more comfortable seated position. Banner grunted noncommittally, but the noise transformed into a growl as his eyes caught Tony's. The billionaire held up his hands peacefully, but the patient just narrowed his eyes and huffed. "Go away."

Tony raised his eyebrow and quirked a smile. At least the Doctor wasn't sedated this time. "Nah, I don't think so," he said carefully, gently, "I pulled a lot of strings to get here and you need to help me save the world. So what do you say?"

"No. Go away."

Tony gave and exaggerated sigh and shrug. "Have it your way. Just know I'm in this for the long haul unless you want to give me a reason why."

Banner mumbled something in a simple sentence, likely with horrendous grammar.

"What's that?" Tony asked.

The man grunted. "Don't want to help. Everybody mean. Want to be alone."

Tony settled in again, prepared for a possibly long discussion. "You know—" He paused, gathering his thoughts for once before speaking. "That's not really a good reason. If nobody helped out because humans are assholes, there wouldn't be anyone left. Especially me." Tony gestured to himself meaningfully. "King asshole, here."

Tony ignored the surly glare leveled at his head that steadily worsened with every passing syllable. "This guy, Loki, he's—"

Bruce stood suddenly, aggressively. "Don't care. Go away."

A flat look crossed the billionaire's face as he was rudely interrupted by an answer that he absolutely did not want to hear. He took a pen out of his pocket and began to fiddle, writing in the air with the capped utensil, pointing it at the doctor when he was ready to speak. Finally, he sighed before beginning. "Look. There are assholes. Right? Yeah, we've already established that. But not everyone's like that. Some people are so good that they're willing to put up with the assholes for years... Do you know anyone like that? Did you know anyone? I know I do; she doesn't deserve to die or be a slave to a psychopath with a possibly justified god-complex."

Bruce paced from one wall to the other, shaking his head and stomping around like Tony's mere presence reminded him that he was trapped in a cage. The memory of a beautiful brunette flashed through his mind, again and again. "Stop; go away. Quiet, quiet, quiet."

"And I dunno what's going to happen next, but a lot of people are going to die without the right gamma expert." Tony stood and glanced over, jumping back when the body slammed viciously into the other side of the glass. Bam, bam, bam. The beats were emphasized by unintelligible shouts. Tony retreated strategically; he'd been planning on leaving soon anyway. He left with one last message. "I'll be back again tomorrow. Think about it!"

* * *

"What… do… you need?" Banner grunted out, voice gravelly and obviously strained from the effort of forming a 'real' sentence. Tony's eyebrows rose in surprise. Now they were getting somewhere.

Tony sat down again, same as usual (wondering for a moment if something could be considered usual after only a few visits), and gave a cheeky grin. "Same thing as last time. Loki hasn't done anything since yesterday morning—I think magic is cheating, right?—but he's still at large and such." Tony waved his hand vaguely to demonstrate all of the problems that the one idea posed.

"What… can…" The deceptively unassuming patient paused and tilted his head to the side as if thinking very deeply… or listening for something. "I do… … about it?"

Huh. Tony forced his hands to still from where they were rummaging quickly through files, looking for the right few. "Well…" He hesitated, not having expected such a civil or unaware response. "Didn't you work on a military project involving gamma radiation and energy a few years ago?"

"…No…"

"Aha! Are you sure? This paper here says that Dr. Bruce Banner headed Project Trinity: 01 under the supervision of General Thaddeus Ross—" A growl came from across the glass and Tony paused. "Something wrong?"

Banner took a moment to get himself under control, shaking with the visible effort of keeping his temper under control, but he managed to do it because he couldn't very well pinpoint what had made him so angry in the first place. "…No."

"Then… I do have the right Bruce Banner, right?" It was inconceivable that JARVIS had made a mistake, but still.

"…Maybe…" Banner grunted.

Tony sighed, rubbing at his forehead in order to ward off the inevitable headache that would result from nonsensical twenty questions. Yes or no questions obviously were not getting anywhere, but the free responses were just as difficult to get a handle on. "So… You're saying that you don't remember working on the project?"

"Don't remember."

"How?"

"Not Bruce," came the simple response.

Tony jerked out of his thoughts—whatever they had been, they were no longer important. "What did you say?" Bruce—No—the 'Not Bruce' opened his mouth to answer, but Tony just continued speaking or, rather, questioning. "How are you not Bruce? Is the information wrong—wait, I already asked that. But hang on—I've seen pictures. And video. Twins? No. That would be in the file. You wouldn't both be Bruce—"

"Told you! Not Bruce!" He shouted, squeezing his hands over his ears and hunching over.

Tony's brow furrowed. He should probably back off, but he was just so curious—"Yes, but wh—?"

Banner's body slammed into the glass with ferocious fury and force. The glass shuddered precariously, groaning when the body backed off only to slam in again with just as much power. The screaming, unlike earlier instances, was unintelligible. Maybe fragments of words were distinguishable, maybe, but for the most part, the man (who most definitely was not Bruce, but was) just shouted out whatever came to him.

Tony realized that it was time to go.

He went, but reluctantly. While his curiosity and impatience threatened to eat him up until the next day or the one after, he wasn't eager to test the strength of the glass. Math, engineering, or whatever told Tony that he wasn't in any danger. The reality of the situation told him otherwise— that another strategic retreat was in order.

* * *

Two days later—because apparently Banner had been too heavily sedated for the time—Tony returned.

He strode into the room and was immediately greeted with a gorilla stance and hateful glare. He sighed and thought: _I should have expected it_. Tony gave a bit of a sheepish smile and shrugged before sitting down. Banner made a move to charge at the glass, but Tony held up his hands in a motion that pleaded him to stop. "Whoa, hang on there. Just dropping in to say sorry—" To be honest, the word felt foreign and slightly distasteful on his tongue "—I didn't mean to upset you the other day and still have no idea why exactly you got upset but you know what let's start over." Tony took a deep breath. Never let it be said that rambling didn't take effort. "Hi. I'm Tony. You are?"

The patient looked thoughtful, suspicious, and more than a little confused. At least it didn't look like the glass would be getting another beating. "I… am me."

"I can see that," Tony responded flatly. "Can I call you Banner? Or do you have something else in mind."

"Banner… Ok…"

Tony nodded slowly. "Good. I can work with that."

The new 'strategy' of approaching Banner as if he'd never read his file was getting more results than the previous interrogation techniques had. Tony didn't want to manipulate him—he realized that would do nothing that would benefit anyone. Besides, it'd just make Tony feel bad about himself.

In the days following, Tony made much progress… But none of it of any particular use to saving humanity from alien tyranny. Sure, it was just great to know that Banner liked green (but not lime), loved smashing things without repercussions (with obvious results), and would be happy to eat beans for every meal (Tony thought that it could be arranged). But he was still no closer to breaking through to the science-y part of the man's mind.

And—Tony frowned imperceptibly as Banner enthused inarticulately over the comparative merits of lima beans—if he was being completely honest, he'd admit that he doubted the presence of that part existed anymore.

And if that was the case, then he'd have to cut back on the visits and look to the future.

Tony felt a glare digging into his forehead and looked up into furrowed brown eyes. "Oh yeah, right—spaced out there for a second. What was that?"

The conversation continued aimlessly for minutes and minutes more, but the doubt wouldn't stop weighing on Tony's mind. With every fragmented, jarring, childlike phrase that passed through Banner's lips, Tony's heart sank. Banner wasn't bad company, too innocent and uncomplicated to deceive, but—well—"Hey…" Tony interrupted gently, "I might not get to visit as often anymore. I—"

Bruce frowned and hunched up. "Why?"

"Well—"

"Tony's leaving."

"I'll come back, just not as often—"

"Everybody leaves." Banner gestured to himself. "Everybody hates…"

Tony frowned and sighed. This was why Pepper did most of the diplomacy. "Banner, this really doesn't have anything to do with what I think about you. It's just that things are getting really tense outside and I'm probably going to be pulling some heavy coffee-hours."

Banner began to speak but was drowned out by the horrible _bring_ing that Tony had come to associate with nothing but headaches and weeks of lingering bruising. For his part, Banner jumped up and away before zeroing in on the little device that Tony had pulled out of his pocket. A growl started up from deep in his throat and his eyes began to get that wild look about them…

"Woah, woah," Tony called, silencing the Avengers device and putting a hopefully calming smile onto his face. "It's Ok. Look here. It's just like a cell phone."

"Hate cell phones."

"Yeah, yeah, well—" A message came through and Tony's face fell. "Oh. Ouch."

"Ouch?"

Tony was intently focused on the little screen, answering absently as he typed out a response to the bad news. "Yeah… Not literally. Just…" He trailed off and finished typing. Normally multitasking would be no problem, but he had to figure out how to get to Paris before the tower was permanently altered. He placed the communicator back in his pocket and stood. "I need to go. Remember Loki?" Banner nodded. "Well, I need to go deal with him. Right now." At the patient's subtly disappointed face Tony hurriedly added, "I'll come back as soon I've dealt with the problems. Ok?"

Banner had no choice but to agree, because what could he really do from behind a thick sheet of glass? Still, as soon as the door shut behind his… friend's retreating back, the thin thread of concentration holding back his temper snapped. His tantrum lasted quite a while, though it was average by his standards. By the end of it, the security assumed that Banner had tired himself out. He just sat there in a corner, twiddling his thumbs thoughtfully staring at a wall.

* * *

The bright green door swung open a few hours later and the lights turned on, allowing Banner to see the outside world. What he saw made him see red.

To be completely fair, almost anyone could be expected to flip out after seeing someone (the only one) they considered a friend in the state that Banner now saw Tony. Half of the billionaire's face was mottled with purple; the rest was blue or some other shade of yellow. His nose looked fine, at least unbroken, but for the angry red that threatened to drip blood at any moment onto the pristine floor, hindered only by a reddish-brown stained handkerchief. The rest of his body was covered by a suit, though an inconspicuous crutch betrayed the extent of his injuries.

"Hey," Tony greeted once Banner had calmed down a bit, raising the hand that wasn't gripping the crutch in greeting. "It actually looks worse than it is, believe it or not. Just bruising. But I'm not going to sit down if you don't mind." There was little response from Banner, still in the process of calming down.

An awkward silence stretched on. "Banner?" Tony asked hesitantly.

The man seemed to exhale, sitting in a way that made him seem smaller, less threatening, and less likely to snap. "What happened?" He asked quietly.

Was that it? Tony scowled a little at the memory, then stopped—the bruises made expressions rather painful. "Loki decided it would be a good idea to set a dragon on Paris—made its nest on the top of the tower. But dragons are so cliché, right? Yeah, that's what I thought too. But there's actually a reason that they're the bosses of Middle Earth." He gestured absently to his face. "Got me with its tail right here. Thor took care of it pretty quickly after that, but dragons are reptiles and reptiles lay eggs that hatch at the most inopportune of times. Did you know that baby dragons are considered endangered?"

The patient shook his head and sat against the glass. It was making his nose ache just to look at Tony's. "Did he have the cube?"

Tony started, jarring his side and causing him to gasp. "Yeah, he always has it with him. But wh—"

"The Tesseract is a door. When… Loki teleports have someone search for a gamma signature that occurs twice. Once you find that, you find the Tesseract and Loki," Banner explained quickly and succinctly, wringing his hands together and tapping his thumbs at random intervals.

Tony's jaw was ready to hit the floor. It was so simple when it was put that way. He had to contact everyone. Now. Although it was unlikely that Loki would be going anywhere exciting so soon, there was no time to be wasted in setting up the system. "Banner—just—wow—Thanks. This is going to do so much good. I have to go tell everyone right now and—" Tony rambled excited phrases and enthusiastic praise. A smile slid its way onto Banner's turned away face.

Tony waved goodbye, but was too excited, busy, and otherwise occupied to glance back as the scientist calmly looked over his shoulder, eyes glowing a radioactive green.

* * *

After setting up a research station, instructing all of his employees, and taking quite the beating in a span of only a few hours, Tony was nothing less than exhausted. He fell into bed, still fully dressed, and wished for nothing more than a good night's rest. JARVIS was intelligent enough to remain quiet and simply lower the lights to help his creator get to sleep as quickly as possible.

Tony was grateful, or at least he was grateful until a message pinged through, overriding JARVIS's blocks. "For the love of— What?" Tony whined at the interruption.

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!" One of his lackeys cheered through the video feed. "I can't believe it—we have it. We actually got it!"

Tony stared at the face blearily, uncomprehendingly. He sighed and sat up gingerly. "What is 'it' that we've found?"

The young scientiest's jaw dropped in amazement. "You don't know? It's the Tesseract. We've got a lock—it's in Syria and Toronto. Oh… No. Now it's just in Toronto."

Tony stood up in a mixture of surprise and shock, punching the air, shouting and wincing. He caught his breath for a moment, doubling over and clutching his side. Then, he tried again with his less injured side, completing the cheer successfully. He turned back to the feed. "Good. Be sure to keep a lock on it until we can get a permanent trace. And—"

"Mr. Stark, sir?" The man interrupted as something pinged through on his computer. "I think you'd better… well… umm…"

"Spit it out."

"You'd better do your superhero… Thing."

Tony groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes, closing the feed just as the Avengers card _bring_ed at him. It looked to him like the day wasn't over yet. But if everything went well in the next few days, weeks… Then the battle would be.

* * *

A/N:

1. As requested, it shall be continued! I've said this before, but Y'all's feedback seriously makes my day (week).

2. There's nothing really to say this chapter except that the second half was atrociously difficult to write and that this is, again, unBeta'd. Regardless, I hope that it is alright and that the next chapter will be up before long.


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